Come Back To Me And Forgive Everything
by momoko775PennilessPoetess
Summary: 6 years after Satine faked her death she's still in love with Christian but tries to forget the past and start a new life in Germany with their son. But she finds herself acting in the play of their story, and facing the writer(was deleted-had 140 hits!!)
1. Talk Of Marriage

"I'm going out, Marie!" I called down the stairs. I checked my pocket to see if the diamond necklace was there, and it was. A diamond gave us a weeks worth of food, paid for our clothing and shelter. All those years of dancing, insisting that diamonds are a girl's best friend really paid off.  
  
I shook my head, trying to forget that past. "Ewan, come on. We've got to get going!"  
  
My five-year-old son bounded down the stairs two at a time with a paper sailor hat over his dark hair. He grinned wildly, pushing his pink tongue through the gap where a tooth used to be.  
  
"Look Mummy, it came out this morning!" he said proudly, pointing to the gap.  
  
"Well that's wonderful. Did you put it under your pillow?"  
  
"Yes Mummy."  
  
I smiled, helping him into his jacket. "I think loosing a tooth like that deserves a reward. . . maybe we'll stop by the candy store on our way to Jonathan's." We had known the jeweler by name after five years. He was a very nice man, in his late twenties. Nice looking too, with blond hair and green eyes.  
  
"Can I show him my hat, too, Mummy?" he asked, slipping his brown boots on.  
  
"I suppose so. Did you make it yourself?"  
  
"Uh-huh. Oma showed me how."  
  
"He told me he wanted to be a sailor when he grows up." Marie peaked her head in from the kitchen. She smiled at my son. "Now if I could only make a boat. . . maybe I'll get you one while you're gone."  
  
Ewan's eyes grew wide. "Really?!"  
  
Marie laughed. "We'll see. Now you two, run along. And wear your shall." She pointed a stern finger at me. "I don't want you to get cold."  
  
"Yes mother," I grumbled, picking up my shall and tickling my son out the door.  
  
I wrapped the shall around me, the cold wind stinging my face, and held up my hand for a cab. A carriage stopped by soon and we scooted into it.  
  
"Mummy, look what I found!" Ewan wiggled his fingers in his pocket, pulling out a small black book.  
  
My hand flew to my mouth, but I tried to stay calm. "Where did you get that?"  
  
"I found it in the attic yesterday. Oma said it was Daddy's. Is it, Mummy?"  
  
I reached my hand out for the book and he gave it to me. I gently turned it over, a cry escaping my throat with each page. A book of his poetry. An early Christmas present from. . . Christian "Yes, this was his."  
  
"Tell me about Daddy," he said softly, crawling to the other side of the carriage and laying his head in my lap.  
  
I looked into Ewan's blue eyes, seeing his father stare back at me. It was so strange the way he looked exactly like him, except five years old.  
  
"Ewan, your father is dead. I told you a long time ago." I could never tell him the truth, no matter how much I wanted to. I couldn't tell him about the club, the duke, the sex, the drugs. . . it was hard to go past that and just tell him about Christian. It was better this way.  
  
I glanced out the window and wiped my eyes. "Oh look, we're here."  
  
I shoved the book in my pocket and paid the driver.  
  
I took Ewan's hand, pushing a few francs to his palm. "Why don't you go the candy story while Mummy goes into Jonathan's, hmm? I'll meet you there in a little while."  
  
Ewan smiled wide. "Ok Mummy!"  
  
He ran off down the street, and I stared after him. The wind blew by quickly, a few strands of my now-blonde hair out of my hat. I pushed it back along with the memories and stepped into Jonathan's.  
  
"Hello," Jonathan yelled across the store. "Just the person I was expecting."  
  
I smiled weakly. "Who else would come on a Monday morning at 7:30?"  
  
He laughed. "Exactly! So I knew it had to be Samantha James."  
  
Samantha James. . . yes, that was me. There is no Satine, there hasn't been for nearly six years. This is my new life in Germany. The past was all behind me.  
  
"Where's. . . Ewan?" he asked with a brow raised.  
  
I forced another smile. "Candy store."  
  
"Ah, yes."  
  
"I have some more diamonds I would like you to look at. . ." I reached in my pocket and my fingers touched the book and I froze.  
  
"Actually, Samantha, there is something I would like to show you." He crept from behind the counter and came to me. "You know, we've known each other for close to five years now. And. . . those five years have been the best of my life."  
  
I looked into his green eyes, with a tear running down my cheek. The book held me stuck and it was hard to breathe. "Yeah, they've been great. . ."  
  
"I love Ewan, you know that."  
  
"He seems to like you too."  
  
"Yes, so. . . all that is left to say is. . ." He bent down to one knee, brought forth a black box, and opened it in front of my eyes. Around a gold band, there was a circle of diamonds around a sapphire. "Samantha James, will you marry me?"  
  
I took a deep breath. "Wh-what?"  
  
"Will you marry me? I love you."  
  
I stared at Jonathan, mixed up in emotions. I never knew he felt this way. Yes, he was a great guy. He loved Ewan, and was so sweet. He treated me like a real person. . . no one ever did that before. . . Christian.  
  
I love Christian. Six years, and I still love him. But I can't marry him. The woman he loves is dead, buried in the ground. I had read the book Christian had written. . . written about us. The names were changed to Christopher and Samantha (that's where I got my name from), but other than that it was the same. He had fulfilled the promise I had asked him to do all those years ago.  
  
No, I can never love anyone else more than that. I stamped my foot, angry that my emotions were still as strong as ever. I want to move on.  
  
Jonathan was everything I ever wanted. Sweet, successful, funny. . . at times. And he loved Ewan and me. Jonathan would make a great father. I wouldn't have to worry about Ewan future with him. Every thing would be taken care of.  
  
"I. . ."  
  
Jonathan stood and touched my hand. "Think about it, alright?"  
  
I nodded, and brought forth the diamonds from my pocket. "I would, uh. . . like to trade these in. . ."  
  
He smiled slightly, averting his eyes from me. "Alright."  
  
After I had gotten the money, I almost ripped out of the store. MARRIAGE? The thought had never even crossed my mind. I kept my own happiness on hold, and lived for my son. He had helped my rebuild my heart after Christian.  
  
No, I would never love another as much.  
  
  
  
  
  
Later that night, after I had tucked Ewan in bed I crept out of the house. I found that I could think better at night under the stars.  
  
I looked around me to make sure no one was there, and I sneaked to the back of the small pond, throwing off my robe and stockings. I plunged into the water I my nightgown, swimming to the middle of the pond.  
  
I floated onto my back and stared up at the stars. They were my confidant's. "Should I marry. . . Jonathan?" I whispered.  
  
A star shot across the night sky, and I thought of Christian. The first night we met, the sky was full of stars, and we fell asleep in each other's arms, watching them.  
  
"I need you. . ." I found myself singing. "And I miss you. And now I wonder. . . If I could fall, into the sky, do you think time would pass me by? 'Cause you know I'd walk a thousand miles if I could just see you. . . Tonight."  
  
Damnit Satine, why did you have to ruin my life? Samantha. . . she doesn't even exist. I was living in France, living happily with love. Why did you have to ruin it for me? "It's always times like these when I think of you and I wonder if you ever think of me. 'Cause everything's so wrong and I don't belong, living in your precious memories."  
  
I read his book, 'A Story About Love' almost every night. I laughed, I sang. . . I cried the whole night. If I had only known the pain I had caused him. . . would I have still done it? It was for the best. . .  
  
I raised a wet hand to my eye and cleared a tear away. Was this the best way? "If I could fall into the sky, do you think time would pass me by? 'Cause you know I'd walk a thousand miles if I could just see you. If I could just hold you. . . Tonight."  
  
I stared up at the stars again.  
  
"Should I give my love again, forgetting all my memories? Should I marry Jonathan? Is all my dreaming at. . . an end? Or do you still wait for me, dream giver, just around the river bend?"  
  
It was silent, except for the beating of my arms on the water. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------- Disclaimer: I do not own Moulin Rouge, not even Christian. ::sigh::  
  
Author's Note: Oma is German for 'Grandma'. Marie adopted Satine, so Marie is Ewan's Grandma. Don't you just love her son's name? Hehe. Ok, well. . . I hope you like this so far.  
  
SONGS USED: 'A Thousand Miles' by Vanessa Carlton 'Just Around The River Bend' from Pocahontas. Just changed it a bit. . . 


	2. Goodbye

I grabbed a perfume bottle and sprayed it on my neck, and with the other hand ran a brush through my blond curls.  
  
As I rushed around, I glanced into the mirror and frowned, like I always do when I look into the mirror. It wasn't just my red hair that I missed, that was my trademark, that had set me apart from the rest of the whores at the Moulin. When you start anew. . . it's supposed to be a better life.  
  
My eyes, once sparkling diamonds were dull. My lips were pale, deep red a scandal. I was still very thin and wore a corset everyday. And my skin. . . just as fair as ever. But I suppose I am happy. I'm living on my own, away from Harold. I depend on myself. I have a son, a wonderful son who looks exactly like. . .  
  
I turned away from the mirror and waved a hand over my eyes, trying to blow away the tears without messing up my makeup.  
  
I patted my head and gasped. "My hat!"  
  
I glanced through my closet, but couldn't find the one that matched with this red dress.  
  
"Marie!" I yelled, tramping out of the room. "Marie, have you seen my hat?"  
  
"My dear, it's right here. There's no need to shout." She held up her arm triumphantly with the red laced hat in her hand. "What's the rush?"  
  
"Auditions," I said, snapping the hat out of her hand and pinning it to my head. "I'm going to be a real actress, Marie. A great actress." I lowered my voice and grabbed her shoulders. "All by myself, without the Duke. I'm going to make it on my own."  
  
"Not if you're late," she smiled, patting my back. She yelled after me, "Make me proud!"  
  
  
  
  
  
The director, beer-bellied and short, looked me over from head to toe. He ran a hand through his red hair. "And you are. . ." he said with a thick German accent, tapping his clipboard.  
  
I smiled sweetly, extending my hand to him. "Samantha James."  
  
He looked at my hand for a second and then winked at me, kissing my fingers. "Can you sing?" I nodded. "Can you dance?" I nodded again. "Can you act?"  
  
"Yes," I whispered. "Would you like me to show you?"  
  
He tapped his chin, leaning back in his red director's chair. It squeaked and the bottom nearly sunk to the floor. "Yes. Show me."  
  
I sang quietly, looking far off. "I follow the night. Can't stand the light. When will I begin. . . to live again?" I looked toward the director and smiled. "One day I'll fly away. Leave all this to yesterday. What more could your love do for me? When will love be through with me?" I looked toward the floor, acting out with the emotions of the song. "Why live life from dream to dream... and dread the day when dreaming ends?"  
  
The director slowly shut his mouth that had been creeping open and tapped his clipboard again. "Can you do that. . . all the time?"  
  
I smiled. "Yes."  
  
"I have the perfect role for you. . . it is a play about love. . ."  
  
"Love?" I asked, hopeful.  
  
"Yes. This is what I said. It is about love, overcoming all obstacles."  
  
I stood, speechless. I had heard these words before. . .  
  
"It's based on a book by an English writer. Oh, the English. . ." he turned his head and spat to the side. "How I hate the English. . . but this Englishman. . . he knows what he's talking about."  
  
"What's it called?"  
  
"Oh, you know. Love. . . some story. Just some book about love. You'd be perfect for the lead actress, Sa. . ."  
  
"Samantha," I said. He couldn't remember my name?!  
  
"Yes, Samantha. That's it. You'd be perfect for the lead, Samantha."  
  
I rushed up to him and shook his hand. "Oh, thank you sir. Thank you so much. I am so excited to be a part of this production."  
  
"Yes, yes. Please come again Friday around this time for rehersal. The writer is coming all the way from. . . where ever he is, and you'll get the script."  
  
"Oh, thank you sir." For the first time, I felt at ease. I had made it through an audition, and I hadn't even slept with the director. He hadn't even suggested it. Yes, life was different.  
  
  
  
  
  
I skipped out of the playhouse and hailed a cab and when I got home I burst through the doors. "Ewan! Marie! I have the best news. . ."  
  
"Mummy!" Ewan, playing with a wooden horse in the sitting room, dropped it and ran to me with open arms. I scooped him up and hugged tightly.  
  
"Alright, what is it? What's this news?" Marie asked.  
  
"I got the lead!" I shrieked, spinning Ewan in circles.  
  
"Oh, darling that's fantastic."  
  
"And I did it all on my own." I set Ewan down by his horse and I sat next to Marie on an armchair. "I don't have the script. . . the writer is supposed to be coming with them, and we're to practice on Friday. Isn't this just the best of news?"  
  
Marie smiled. "Yes, love, it is."  
  
"And YOU!" I picked up my son. "It is time for your bedtime. Come on, then." We made our way upstairs.  
  
"Mummy, were you really good at your audition?" he asked.  
  
"Are you kidding? I as hot! I was on fire! I blew them all away when I opened my mouth."  
  
"Mummy, can you sing me a song?"  
  
"A song, huh?" I turned into the master bedroom that we shared together and set him down on his bed. "Anything for you, my darling."  
  
He grinned, running about to get ready.  
  
"And don't forget to wash your face and brush your teeth," I called after him.  
  
He ran out the door to the bathroom. I flopped down on his small bed and sighed. Now that I was alone, I thought about my problems.  
  
What was I to tell Jonathan? I don't love him, I can't love him. I like him, really I do. But it's not like Christian is coming back, anyway. . .  
  
My heart pangs just thinking of him. "It's always times like these when I think of you and I wonder if you ever think of me. . ." I sighed. How I missed him. "I need you. . . And I miss you. And now I wonder. . . If I could fall, into the sky, do you think time would pass me by? 'Cause you know I'd walk a thousand miles if I could just see you. . . Tonight."  
  
I closed my eyes tight. If he were here, everything would be all right. He would tell me just what to do. . . but if he were here, I would be married to him and not be having this dilemma.  
  
"Mummy, is that my song?"  
  
My eyes flashed open and I smiled, holding my hands out to him.  
  
"No, darling, I have a much better one." He laid down on his pillow and I pulled the covers up to his chin and caressed his hair.  
  
"Night-time sharpens, heightens each sensation. Darkness wakes, and stirs imagination. Silently the senses abandon their defenses. Helpless to resist the notes I write, for I compose the music of the night. Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor. Grasp it, sense it. . . tremulous and tender. Hearing is believing, music is deceiving. Hard as lightning, soft as candle light. Dare you trust the music of the night. . ."  
  
I smiled as he sleepily yawned. "Close your eyes, for your eyes will only tell the truth. And the truth isn't what you want to see. In the dark it is easy to pretend. . . But the truth is what it ought to be. Softly, deftly, music shall caress you. Hear it, feel it, secretly possess you. Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind, in this darkness which you know you cannot fight - the darkness of the music of the night." My voice rang around the room.  
  
"Close you eyes, start a journey to a strange new world. Leave all thoughts of the world you knew before. Close your eyes and let music set you free. . ." I glanced up from my sons drooped eyelids, to the night sky, thinking of another man with the same color hair and eyes. "Only then can you belong to me." I whispered, a single tear falling down my cheek. I hastily wiped it away and looked back at my half-asleep son. "Floating, falling, sweet intoxication! Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation! Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in to the power of the music that I write. The power of the music of the night. You alone can make my song take flight. . . help me make the music of the night. . ."  
  
A slight snore told me he was asleep, and I arranged the blankets around his chest, slipping out the door.  
  
I twirled a blond curl between my finger. "Come what may. . . I will love you until my dying day." Christian would always have my heart, but our son. . . sooner or later I'll run out of diamonds, and we'll be thrown out on the streets. I need to ensure Ewan's future.  
  
I have to put Christian out of my mind. I have to stop believing that something will happen, and my happy ending will come. Jonathan loves me, and we're going to get married. We. . . we'll be happy. I need to say goodbye. But how can I forget all that has happened?  
  
"You were once my one companion...you were all that mattered. You were once a friend and lover - then my world was shattered. Wishing you were somehow here again... wishing you were somehow near... Sometimes it seemed, if I just dreamed, somehow you would be here... Wishing I could hear your voice again... knowing that I never would... Dreaming of you won't help me to do all that you dreamed I could. Passing bells and sculpted angels, cold and monumental, seem for you, the wrong companions - you were warm and gentle."  
  
Christian. . . his name would have to be buried along with Satine. They deserved to die together. She would do anything for him. . . forever she will love him. A tear trickled down my cheek and I hastily wiped it away. No, this was my decision long ago. It was the best thing to do. . . and I still believe it. This is what I must do.  
  
"Too many years, fighting back tears. . . Why can't the past just die? Wishing you were somehow here again... knowing we must say goodbye. Try to forgive... teach me to live... give me the strength to try. No more memories, no more silent tears... No more gazing across the wasted years... Help me say goodbye." ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------- Disclaimer: I do not own Moulin Rouge, not even Christian. ::sigh::  
  
Author's Note: I just want them to be together. . . how about you? Grr, all this 'it's for the best crap' is really annoying me. I'll just have to have a talking with her. . .  
  
SONGS USED: 'A Thousand Miles' by Vanessa Carlton 'The Music Of The Night' from The Phantom Of The Opera 'Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again' from The Phantom Of The Opera 


	3. An Angel In Pain

I curled up in the armchair in the sitting room, alone, early in the morning. A handkerchief in one hand, 'A Story About Love' in the other. I didn't need the book, I had read it so many times that the words were memorized. And I had lived it. . .  
  
It was a tugging reminder of who I was. No, this was about Satine. My name is Samantha. . . that story was just a book. I had lived in Paris for nearly all my life, and my husband died at sea with the Navy, and I moved here with my mother and my son. Or so I told everyone. . .  
  
But this isn't me. When I wake up in the night, or even during the day, I find a tear down my cheek. And most of the time I don't even know why.  
  
A knock at the door jerked my head up, and dabbed the handkerchief to my eyes, and went to the door.  
  
"J-Jonathan," I stuttered, pulling my robe closer to me and leaning my head against the door. "What are you doing here so early?"  
  
"I'm sorry. . . I knew the hour, but I couldn't help myself. . . I had to see you."  
  
I moved away from the door, offering him in. "Come in."  
  
He nodded and slid past me, hanging his coat and hat on the coat rack. He took a deep breath. "I couldn't sleep. And so I just ran over here."  
  
"You look a little flushed. Would you like some water?"  
  
"Oh. . . no, thank you. I'll be fine."  
  
"Alright." I sat back down on the armchair and gathered my robe around me. How early was it? 5:00? "So. . . what are you doing here?"  
  
"Do. . ." he started, than looked away. He took a deep breath in and then started again. "Have you thought about what I asked you before?"  
  
My hands were shaking, and I looked at the ground. "I have."  
  
"And?"  
  
"I like you a lot. And Ewan loves you, and you've been so great to us ever since we came here. You are so sweet and thoughtful, and I know you would keep us safe and provide for us."  
  
"Yes, I would." His eyes shone brightly and he reached out for my hand. "I would love and care for you both, forever."  
  
I nodded. "And that's why. . . " A knot in my stomach hurting so much I started to cry. "That's why I will marry you, Jonathan."  
  
For a moment he sat in shock, and then a smile crept over his face and he knelt to the floor and pushed a diamond ring onto my finger.  
  
"Oh darling, I love you so. . ." he whispered, pushing his lips to mine.  
  
My tears turned into sobs that were hard to hide away.  
  
"Oh darling. . . I am so happy!" he exclaimed with a large smile.  
  
"Me too," I sobbed.  
  
An hour later, he left, and Ewan wondered into the room, rubbing his eyes.  
  
"Darling, come here," I said.  
  
I held my arms open and he walked into them. I held him to my tightly.  
  
"I have a surprise for you. . ." I whispered into his ear.  
  
"A surprise?" His ears perked up and he raised his head, a big grin on his face.  
  
"Yes, Ewan."  
  
"Is it Daddy?"  
  
I bit my lip to help from bursting even more into tears. My chin quivered and I wiped away the fresh tears from my eyes with my hand. "No, darling. Daddy's gone. . . Daddy's dead, remember?"  
  
"But can't I meet him first?"  
  
I held him to my chest, rocking him back and forth. "Baby, your father is gone. He's dead. Dead people don't come back. . ."  
  
I wanted him to understand - that things rarely work out the way you want them too, but I had grown up so fast, barely been a child at all. I needed him to believe there was some good left in the world.  
  
"But Mummy, in that poem. . . Daddy wrote he'd always be with you. Come what may, he said he would-"  
  
I put my finger to his mouth. "Shh. . ." I whispered, not able to say anything else. Looking into his eyes, I saw Christian, and filled me with a deadly hope.  
  
"Deary, lets get you back to bed." Marie came into the room and took Ewan from my arms, carrying him back to his room. A few seconds later, and I followed.  
  
"Oma, why doesn't Mummy talk about Daddy ever?" Ewan's voice said from behind the door. I stood with my back against the wall and listened.  
  
"It hurts her, cherub. She loved your Daddy very much. It wasn't easy for her when. . . he died." Marie paused over the last words.  
  
"Did you know him, Oma?"  
  
"Yes, love I did."  
  
"Can YOU tell me what he was like?" Ewan asked hopefully.  
  
Marie stayed silent for a moment. "Alright. . ." there was another silence, and then finally she said, "Your Daddy was from a far away country called England. You know where England is?"  
  
"Yes, Oma," he whispered.  
  
"Alright. Well, your father moved to France from England, all alone. He didn't know anyone in France and he was penniless. He was very kind, and nice. . . a beautiful gift for writing and singing. And he loved your mother very much. He gave up everything to be with her." She sighed. "He tried to hide his feelings, but you could tell... whenever he looked at your mom. . . a smile just swept over his face and you could feel it in the depths of your soul what they felt for each other."  
  
"What about me?"  
  
"Darling, he never met you. He was. . . gone by the time you were born. But he would have just loved you. his heart was always giving and he always spoke what he felt. His eyes. . . they're exactly like yours - sparkling blue, shining with the truth of the world. The first time I met him, I thought he was an angel. . ."  
  
"I did too. . ." I whispered from behind the door, wiping a tear away.  
  
"The night your father met your mother. . . they weren't supposed to. There was another man your mother was supposed to meet. . . but your father got her first."  
  
Ewan gasped. "How?"  
  
"Well, he asked me where he could see Miss Sat-Samantha, and I told him where she lived. Now, I knew that he wasn't the man your Mummy was supposed to meet that night. But somehow I knew that the man was the one your Mummy was SUPPOSED to meet. Something told me that he was special. . . He wasn't like the others. . . and he would do a great deal of good to my daughter."  
  
"Oma, what about. . ."  
  
"Some other time, cherub. It's getting late."  
  
He yawned. "But I'm not sleepy. . ."  
  
"Of course you're not."  
  
Marie closed the door behind her quietly and smiled up at me.  
  
"I told Jonathan 'yes'," I said.  
  
"I know."  
  
"Ewan will have a father."  
  
"He already has one." I turned away and started descending down stairs. "I know you don't like me saying this. . . but his father is still alive - you know that. Don't put you both through this any longer. . . just go back to him. Tell him the truth. . ."  
  
"And tell him what? That I left him because. . . it was in my contract? I had fulfiled my duties, and I didn't know who was the father of my child? No, Marie. It would hurt us both. We can't begin again."  
  
"He's close to death."  
  
I paused, gripping the railing.  
  
"Harold's been writing to me all this time. He says he shuts out the world, intoxicates himself on Absinthe. He says he's close to death - he hasn't been outside in years. The last time he saw him he thought it was a ghost, he was so pale."  
  
I hid my tears that burned every time they started and walked on, heading back into the sitting room.  
  
"Satine!" I froze, my heart stinging with the memory of every thing that happened to Satine. "The truth hurts. . . but it's the truth."  
  
I shook my head. "It's too late," I whispered. "I lost it all. . ."  
  
"If you want to just see him waste away to nothing, that's fine with me. But think of your son."  
  
"I do. That's why I'm marring Jonathan." I fell into her arms and sobbed into her shoulder. "Marie, I love Christian. . . I love him, but it's too late. I've already lost him. . ."  
  
  
  
  
  
I sighed, looking out the window of the train, seeing the steady rise and fall of mountains with white peaks. I was so far away from home. What I wouldn't give to be back in my garret. . .  
  
I was fine with shutting out the world. Every thing was once bright and beautiful, and the sun each morning was a new one, but it suddenly lost all of it's meaning for me. The sun seemed to mock me instead, smiling on my broken heart and laughing at my tears. The world just didn't have a meaning for me without. . . her.  
  
I sighed again, wondering why Harold just HAD to make a script out of my book as a surprise and sent it to his cousin in Germany. The money from the profits were enough to keep me barely alive. A drink of absinthe and my memories were all I needed to survive these days.  
  
I missed her so much. I woke up from night sweats and tried to feel for her beside me. . . but she was gone. For six years I had wasted away, yearning for death to come over me. And I had been so close. . . but someone always stops me just before. I touched my arm, remembering the knife I had jabbed into my flesh, hoping it would all be over soon.  
  
The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love, and be loved in return. Yes, those words were the truth. . . but I have learned. How wonderful life was when you were in the world, but it's hell when you're not. Can't I just die now and be with you?  
  
People don't understand me, talking to myself, looking up at the sky and crying. Where ever she was, I felt my heart was with her. But when I lay flowers on her grave, I don't feel her. She is so strong with me everywhere, but I can't even feel her where she was, six feet under. . .  
  
My head fell into my hands and I don't even fight with the tears. I felt lost, not knowing where she was. In Heaven? In Hell? My little angel, my little devil. . . where are you? Do my prayers affect you? Does my songs touch you, in extreme bliss or heat? Are you with me every step of the way? Every day, I feel so lonely. . .  
  
"Satine," I whispered.  
  
The man sitting across the isle from me glances my way, and quickly turns away when our eyes meet. He doesn't understand. No one understands this pain.  
  
I turn back toward the beautiful scenery, but the image doesn't even touch my heart, which is not my own anymore. "And I'd give up forever to touch you, 'Cause I know that you feel me somehow. You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be and I don't want to go home right now."  
  
I don't care if the man across from me or the other passengers think I'm crazy. They've never been in love and lost it all. . . "And I don't want the world to see me, 'Cause I don't think that they'd understand. When everything's made to be broken, I just want you to know who I am. And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming, or the moment of truth in your lies. And all I can taste is this moment. And all I can breathe is your life. 'Cause sooner or later it's over. . . I just don't want to miss you tonight. I just want you to know who I am. . . I just want you to know who I am. . . I just want you to know who I am."  
  
A tear fell down my face, and I felt closer to my love as the train continued forward, to its destination in Germany. "Satine. . ." ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------- Disclaimer: I do not own Moulin Rouge, not even Christian. ::sigh::  
  
Author's Note: Wow, I'm just pulling these out. . . I saw Star Wars ep. 2 today on a date with my sister. I'm so pathetic, I need to get a guy. . . but until then it's my sissy. ANYWAY, Ewan was excellent in it. Might I add that I saw 'Emma' last night finally after I finished the book, and Ewan's 'Nora' should be in movie stores by the end of the month. . .  
  
SONGS USED: 'Iris' by the Goo Goo Dolls 


	4. Heaven Or Hell?

Well, Friday had finally arrived, and after taking some time of slipping a glove over my diamond ring, not able to do it at first and crying, and then completing the task. Without even any breakfast, I hailed a cab and left with the morning sun.  
  
I smiled as I stepped into the playhouse. The sound of cutting, sawing, shoes running to and fro on the stage. . . it was all as I had remembered it.  
  
"Ah, Miss James. . ."  
  
I whirled around to see the director smiling with his clipboard at his side.  
  
"Oh, how lovely to see you again, Mister. . ." I paused. I never caught his name before.  
  
"Zidler." When he spoke, my body froze. "Hanz Zidler."  
  
"Z. . . Z. . ." I forced a breath in and sat down in a close by chair. "Are you related to Harold. . ."  
  
"Yes, duckling. He's my cousin."  
  
Oh hell, there were the names. . . they're related. Oh hell. I forced a smile. "Oh well. . ." I suppose it was nothing new to me. When you worked with one Zidler, you've worked with them all.  
  
"Chickpea, the writer should be here soon with your scripts. . . why don't you go backstage with Elizabeth?" He put two fingers in his mouth and a shrill sound, followed by a short woman with raven-colored hair and thick spectacles.  
  
"Well, I. . ."  
  
"Good," he said, smiling and turning his back.  
  
"Come with me, Miss James," Elizabeth said quietly leading me backstage. "Well, um. . . we read the master copy that Mr. Zidler has. . . and we set aside for Samantha to wear."  
  
My eyebrows pinched together in question, but I shrugged it off. "Oh, well, good thing I'm here, then."  
  
"Samantha James is a pretty woman," she said nervously, picking up a sleeve of a red-velvet dress. "She is elegant, and we thought she'd wear something like this on the street and all."  
  
Why was she talking to me like I wasn't here? "Well, um. . . ok."  
  
Elizabeth blushed and went on. "In the script Samantha had flaming red hair. . ." she inspected me and I choked on my breath. How did she know. . . "I'm sure your blond hair will work for it, though."  
  
"Uh. . . question." I raised my hand a bit and she nodded nervously. "What's my character's name?"  
  
"Well, Miss James, her name is Samantha James."  
  
"Oh. . ." is said, still a bit confused. "That's, uh. . . my name."  
  
"Really?" she asked surprised. "Well, that is indeed strange. . . I just knew that your last name was the same as the writer's, but other than that. . ."  
  
"What?!" I exclaimed, and then took a breath to calm myself down. "Oh, well. . . yes, that is unusual. . ."  
  
"The writer is here!" Hans Zidler's voice ran through the hall.  
  
"Oh, I should better go. . ." Elizabeth said, repositioning her spectacles on her eyes.  
  
"Oh. . . yes. Of course." I nodded.  
  
"Please, try on some costumes while I'm gone - all of them on this rack. I'll come and check on you later."  
  
She left through a door and I ran my fingers along the rack of costumes, smiling as the different fabrics tickled my fingers. I stopped on a white dress and pulled it out, taking it off the hanger and held it up to me.  
  
It looked strangely like the Hindi wedding dress, except it was an off- white and small straps on the shoulders. God, I loved that dress. It was so beautiful. I wanted to take it with me when I left, but Harold insisted that it was his and kept it. Yeah, like he would wear it anyway. . . "It's not his color," I murmured, posing in a near-by mirror.  
  
"Pigeon, did you say something?" Hans asked from the other side of the door.  
  
"N-no, I didn't," I said, hastily putting the dress back on the hanger, not fully knowing why. Elizabeth did ask me to try them on, but I somehow felt out of place with these beautiful costumes now.  
  
"Darling, are you decent?"  
  
"Yes," I called, turning my back to the door to hang up the dress.  
  
The door swung open, and for a brief second I was back at the Rouge, waiting for my curtain call. But the feeling went away as fast as it came.  
  
"Darling, I have the writer with me. Let me introduce you. Samantha James, meet Christian James."  
  
My hands flinched at the name and the hanger fell to the floor and I had to hang on to the rack to help from falling down. There. . . there must be a mistake, I was telling my tightening chest. There are many people named that. . . who are writers. . . who writes a story about love and has the main character named 'Samantha'. Oh hell. . . I shut my eyes tightly and my eyes filled with tears and I felt like I was going to collapse. I need to get out of here. . . get some air. . . need to get away. . .  
  
I started to stumble away from them, slowly. I couldn't walk straight without holding onto something.  
  
"Dear, are you alright?" Hans asked me, gripping my shoulder.  
  
I turned toward the wall. No, this all wasn't happening. Not now. . . "No, I'm fine. Just a dizzy spell." I tried to disguise my voice the best I could under the circumstances.  
  
"Why don't you sit down? We don't want our star pass out now, do we?"  
  
He pulled me into a chair and I looked down at the floor. I could feel him close, all around me, breathing, being. . .  
  
"So what do you think?" Hans asked. "Does she look like your heroine?"  
  
There was a little silence and then: "I'm not too sure." Christian's voice went through me like lightning. "Can I see your face, miss?"  
  
I shook my head slowly. "No. . ." I whispered.  
  
"Oh, don't be shy," Hans said. "She's actually very beautiful. . ."  
  
A hand forced my tensed neck to look up and I shut my eyes tightly, hoping somehow I had disappeared.  
  
But I hadn't.  
  
"I. . . I. . ." Christian started, and I could hear him heaving in breaths.  
  
I opened my eyes for the first time and glanced at a ghostly figure. His eyes, that I saw everyday in our son, that were once the shining sky were worn away and dull. His skin was pale, except for flushed cheeks. His hair was unkempt and combed maybe once, and trace of a beard and moustache was on his face. He was nothing like I remembered, but with a strand of black hair over his eyes I realized at first glance that he still had my heart.  
  
"Y-You. . . You, I. . ." he started.  
  
"Why don't I leave you two alone?" Hans suggested, disappearing.  
  
"Satine. . ." he whispered, taking a few steps back to lean against the wall. He gripped his hat.  
  
I looked away quickly, trying to act calm. "I'm sorry, sir. My name is Samantha J-"  
  
"Satine. . ." he said again, making me hold my breath and sent an unwanted tear running down my cheek. "You're dead. This. . . this can't be real. You can't be. . ."  
  
"I'm sorry, sir, but-"  
  
"No!" he yelled suddenly and I looked into his dull blue eyes. "Satine. . . it really is you, it really is. . ." He sighed, taking a few steps toward me and placed a warm hand on my cheek. My mouth quivered as I stared into his face, suddenly coming alive.  
  
"You have no idea how long I've waited for this. . . how many sleepless nights I have gone through just hoping after them all I'd go to where you are."  
  
"Christian. . ." I whispered.  
  
"I knew I would find you again. . . so where are we? Oh, this must be heaven. That's where we are, right? Oh, it doesn't matter. . ." He pressed his lips against me, his hands running through my hair and I felt the world tremble and the fires of hell wrap it's warmth around me. His touch, his lips, his taste. . . it was too long, and yet as he brought me to my shaky feet, I felt that no time had passed. The butterflies in me that I thought were dead surfaced after so long.  
  
After a long time, he pulled away from me and I fell into his embrace, my eyes swollen and red with tears.  
  
"Oh darling. . . this is definitely heaven. I love you so much. . ."  
  
I brought my hands to his shoulders and pushed away, sobs erupting through my body.  
  
"Darling, what is?" his smiling face hovered just inches over mine.  
  
I closed my eyes and brought my hand to my eyes. He thought he had died. . . that he had joined me in heaven. I pushed away from him and took a few steps before his warm hand landed on my shoulder.  
  
"Darling, what's wrong?"  
  
"No," I sobbed. This was a dream. "Christian, this is not heaven. . ."  
  
"Well then, where are we?" he asked with a smile, coming to my side and putting a finger under my chin. He leaned in and kissed my cheek, his hands like fire on my back.  
  
"Germany. . . we're in Germany. . ."  
  
"So they renamed heaven?" he asked with a smile. The dullness in his eyes was now polished stars.  
  
"I'm not dead. . . I never was. . ." I cried, turning away, needing air.  
  
"What?" he asked, his cheerful voice turning to ice. "I. . . I don't understand."  
  
"Christian, I faked my death," I barked. "I never died. . ."  
  
He shook his head. "Oh bloody hell, I'm dreaming again. I'm dreaming. . . but it feels so real. . ."  
  
"That's because it is," I whispered. I hated telling him the truth, hating all these emotions rushing over me.  
  
"But. . . no. You. . . you died in my arms on the stage. . . I saw them bury you in the ground. . . You. . . no, no this is heaven. I died finally, didn't I?"  
  
I looked up, toward the heavens, wishing for a sign of what to do, but nothing came. "No, we're both very much alive. . ."  
  
"No. . ." he sobbed.  
  
I straightened myself up, my back to him. Inside my heart is braking, my makeup may be flaking. . . but my smile still stays on. Yes, the should must go on. . . "I'm sorry," I said, walking away.  
  
"No." The hiss made me stop cold in my tracks and send a shiver up my spine. "It was all a lie? Your dying. . . it was a lie?"  
  
I took a deep breath in and turned around, turning into Diamond once more. "I'm afraid it was."  
  
"Why?" he whispered, his voice barely audible.  
  
It took all my strength to keep upright and calm. "Because it was the only way I could fly away from the Rouge."  
  
"You made me believe that you loved me. . ." he growled, picking himself up from the floor. His red face was streaked with tears and his eyes were once again dull. "For six years I wasted my life, and you were here living in high fashion?"  
  
I winced at the words. "No. . ." I whispered.  
  
"No?!" he demanded, throwing me against a wall. "Was it just all a game? To play with someone's heart and laugh as your experiment took full control. . ."  
  
"Christian. . ." the rage in him scared me and I closed my eyes, wishing the tears away, and trying to hide from the pain of his hold.  
  
"You made me believe that you loved me. . . you're no better than the rest of them," he spat. "All those nights, all those kisses, was just a game to you."  
  
I bit my lip, still unable to look at him. "Uh huh," I whispered.  
  
"No. . . no I don't believe it. Tell me you don't love me. Tell me. . . you don't love me!" he screamed, and I felt like it was opening night of 'Spectacular! Spectacular!' again. Those days we were so carefree, nothing bothered us. . . but now there were things to loose. I was a mother, and he was a father. . . only he didn't know it.  
  
"I. . . I don't. . . I don't. . ." I couldn't force out the final words and I let my sobs fill in the silence.  
  
He pressed cold lips to mine, pushing me harder against the wall. There was a power in him that scared me. . .  
  
"Christian. . ." I pushed him weakly as his tongue slipped into my mouth and tears fell anew at his taste. So sweet, like candy, and so familiar as if having you're favorite dessert for the first time in years.  
  
His hands raked through my hair and tugged at my dress. Butterflies and tears filled my senses.  
  
Suddenly, he pulled away, and I felt myself breathe again. "You. . . you. . ." He fought for breath and wiped as his mouth for the lipstick that was almost invisible, compared to the dark red that used to smear all over him.  
  
He fought for words, pacing the floor. "No. . . this isn't happening."  
  
"Christian. . ." I reached out for him, wanting to pull him back, but ripped my hand back, seeing the bulge of my ring under my glove. "Please say something," I pleaded.  
  
He stopped what he was doing and glared at me. "This is how you remind me of what I really am - It's not like you to say sorry. I was waiting on a different story. This time I'm mistaken for handing you a heart worth breaking. I've been wrong, I've been down, been to the bottom of every bottle. These five words in my head scream "Are we having fun yet?"  
  
He punched the wall and ran away through the door.  
  
I fell to the floor, pulling my knees to my chest. What had just happened? "Christian. . ." this pain was unlike anything I ever had before. After all this trying and hiding, it all just blows up in my face. I knew this wasn't the answer. . . but what else can happen?  
  
"It starts with one thing. I don't know why, it doesn't even matter how hard you try. All I know, time is a valuable thing, watch it fly by as the pendulum swings. Watch it count down 'till the end of the day, clock ticks life away, it's so unreal. You didn't look out below, watch the time go right out the window, trying to hold on. Didn't even know, I wasted it all, just to watch you go. . ." my eyes wondered to where Christian had left. . . did I really truly see him? Was this all a dream? No, I realized, it wasn't. "I kept everything inside, and even though I tried, it all fell apart. What it's meant to be, will, eventually be, a memory of a time, when I tried so hard and got so far, but in the end it doesn't even matter. I had to fall to loose it all, but in the end it doesn't even matter." ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------- Disclaimer: I do not own Moulin Rouge, not even Christian. ::sigh::  
  
Author's Note: Hmm. . . Christian seems a bit angry. . . I hope you guy's are still sticking with this. . . wow, these just keep coming to me.  
  
SONGS USED: 'The Show Must Go On' Queen 'How You Remind Me' by Nickelback 'In The End' by Linkin Park 


	5. What To Do Now?

I paced, wearing down a line in the carpet of the small apartment Harold had bought for me during my stay. People who die, stay dead. "Dead people don't come back!" I exclaimed, throwing my arms at a table, scattering papers and pencils off to the side.  
  
But she was so real. . . I had dreamed so many times that I would see her, and now that I have. . . what was better? Dreaming it or your dream becoming an reality.  
  
She lied to me. She made me believe that she loved me, and like a fool I believed and gave her my heart. I could just imagine her, sitting back on her golden thrown, laughing at me while I became nothing but a corpse, like I thought she was. . . But no, she was too brilliant, too expensive, too high-class for death. She was always so strong, so determined. She could argue her way out of everything, even death.  
  
"She wasn't sick! I should have know. . . I SHOULD have know. . . the doctors never told me anything of what was wrong with her. . ." I threw my hands in the air. "I hate her! That cold, unfeeling, ungrateful, beautiful, talented woman."  
  
I sat down in a chair and let my head fall to my hands. I hated her. . . or at least I wanted to hate her. With every fiber of my being, I wanted to. . . but I love her. She did her job so very, very well.  
  
But. . . why? Why did she do this? What did she get in return?  
  
How is it possible to love someone with your whole heart, and loathe them at the same time?  
  
"Everything's so blurry, and everyone's so fake. Everybody's empty and everything is so messed up. Pre-occupied without you, I cannot live at all. My whole world surrounds you, I stumble and I crawl. You could be my someone, you can be my scene. You know that I'll protect you from all of the obscene. I wonder what your doing, imagine where you are. . . Can you take it all away, can you take it all away? Well you shoved it in my face. This pain you gave to me."  
  
I would have given her the world. I would have sold my soul to the devil just to see her smile at me once more, and she was just laughing at the thought. "Everyone is changing, there's no one left that's real. Make up your own ending, and let me know just how you feel. Cause I am lost without you, I cannot live at all. My whole world surrounds you, I stumble then I crawl. You could be my someone, you can be my scene. You know that I will save you from all of the unclean. I wonder what your doing, I wonder where you are. . . Can you take it all away, can you take it all away? Well you shoved it in my face. This pain you gave to me."  
  
I want her to feel this pain. . . to have these tears burn her beautiful eyes.  
  
Damnit. . . why can't she just love me like I love her?  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
I faked a bad headache and a cold and hurried on home. When the door opened, Marie asked, "What are you doing home so early?"  
  
I slowly walked to her in the kitchen, my eyes still full of tears. "Marie. . . Christian's back. He's the writer. . ."  
  
She didn't look up from peeling a carrot.  
  
"M-Marie. . . he's back. He's back. . ."  
  
"I know," she whispered.  
  
I looked at her for a second, nothing registering in my mind. Finally I asked, "What do you mean you know?"  
  
"Harold. . . sent a letter. I read it. . ."  
  
"You knew. . . and you didn't tell me?" I put a hand to my heart and backed away until I felt the wall behind me. "You knew. . ."  
  
"Yes, I did." She put the knife and carrot down and turned her eyes to me. "Well if you had known, you would have avoided him all the time he was here. . . And Ewan would never have a change to meet his father, and you'd marry Jonathan. . ."  
  
"Ewan will NOT meet his father, and I WILL marry Jonathan!" I yelled, gasping in air. "You knew. . . the whole time you knew and you didn't tell me. . ." I shook my head. No, this wasn't happening.  
  
"Christian deserves to see his son, if nothing else. He is Ewan's real father, and that is something Jonathan can never be, no matter how much you want him to."  
  
"He will not!" I screamed, stamping my foot. My eyes were so filled with tears that I couldn't see anymore. "He will never see him!"  
  
"My dear. . ." Marie softened her voice. "You told Ewan his father was dead. . . but which of his parents truly died?"  
  
I shook my head at her. She knew nothing about me, about Ewan, about love. . . I grabbed my coat.  
  
"Where are you going?" she asked.  
  
"Out!" I yelled, slamming the door shut.  
  
The cold air stung my eyes and I put a hand to them. Oh Christian, my beautiful poet. . . how can I make you understand that this is all for the best?  
  
I love him. . . I will always love him, but it's too late. The woman he loved is dead. I'll never forget him, but the past is the past.  
  
"When I think back on these times and the dreams we left behind, I'll be glad cause I was blessed to get, to have you in my life. When I look back on these days I'll look and see your face. You were right there for me. . . In my dreams I'll always see you soar above the sky. In my heart there'll always be a place for you, for all my life. I'll keep a part of you with me, and everywhere I am there you'll be."  
  
I walked on down the street, hugging my coat around me. The trees were turning colors - reds, oranges, yellows - it was like a splash of sunshine wherever you went. Everything was so beautiful. I must have walked down this streets a thousand times a week, and never saw how beautiful. I wonder why today was different. . . it had started out so bad, but when I heard Hans say his name. . . a thrill ran over me. And when Christian kissed me. . . I put my hand up to my lips, still feeling the warmth. It had been so sweet, so pure, so beautiful. My heart did want to believe in starting over, in the truth. . . but things so rarely turn out the way you want them to.  
  
"Well you showed me how it feels to feel the sky within my reach. And I always will remember all the strength you gave to me. Your love made me make it through, and I owe so much to you. You were right there for me. 'Cause I always saw in you my light, my strength. And I want to thank you now for all the ways you were right there for me, always. In my dreams I'll always see you soar above the sky. In my heart there'll always be a place for you, for all my life. I'll keep a part of you with me. And everywhere I am there you'll be."  
  
  
  
  
  
That night I took a walk around the city, with my coat pulled tightly over me and my hat covering my eyes. I didn't want to meet anyone tonight. Not someone with flawless skin, and the purest lips that I still longed to kiss.  
  
"Forget her," I whispered to myself, a tall German man with his wife glancing slightly in my direction. I pulled my hat down more, walking past them.  
  
I didn't know where I was going, but turned a corner and glanced around me in the darkness, light by porch lights. The trees were truly beautiful in autumn. . . for years I didn't take any notice. 'Why was today something different?' I wondered, but I didn't want an answer, just some air as I saw her through a window of a second story home, brushing her now-blonde hair, wearing a white silk night gown.  
  
"Satine. . ." I whispered. I wanted to turn away, and I instructed my legs to do so, but they wouldn't move and I continued to watch her, now standing and touching the window softly. Her mouth was opened, but she didn't say any thing, just gazed out into the night.  
  
"Snap out of it!" I yelled, but I couldn't take my eyes off of her.  
  
"I can see you stand there, despite the lack of the moon," I found myself whispering. "I can see your face, dear, that loveless expression remains there. . . Stunning like a white rose, but one that's carved out of stone. You won't say a thing, love, though I swear I'd give you my heart and all that I request is you'll be in my dreams, dear. Wear that dress for me and for me alone."  
  
But suddenly the reality hit me as a small child, with dark hair, ran into her arms. She has a child? Is she married also? Oh, no. Satine married? No man could handle her. Probably one of the gifts she got from the Duke. . . but even from this distance he looks nothing like the Duke. Dark hair, like the night sky, and blue eyes. . . Satine's pale skin. . . who's child was he? "When I must awake, I can still see you stand there, laughing at my pain as I fall back down. Though I long for your kiss, cold as the dark of the moon, you would still prefer, dear, to break my heart over and over. How I wish that I could touch those long and silky locks, but instead you stand there, still laughing as I gasp in pain, and why must I awake, though this night is tormenting, only to forget 'til another dream?"  
  
She smiled. . . that pure smile that I knew was only her, and hugged the boy, mouthing 'I love you'. She was probably lying to him too, but a tear rolled down her cheek. "I can't even tell if you're all you seem. Why must I awake, though this night is tormenting? Only to forget 'til another dream?"  
  
Hate surfaced up again and I felt my jaw clench as I continued down the street. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------- Disclaimer: I do not own Moulin Rouge, not even Christian. ::sigh::  
  
Author's Note: Alright, it might seem like I don't know what I'm doing. . . but I do. I have a very interesting idea in my head. . .  
  
SONGS USED: 'Blurry' by Puddle of Mudd 'There You'll Be' by Faith Hill 'Other Side Of The Moon' (English Translations) by Weiss Kruez 


	6. Meeting

"Hope you don't mind," the voice rang through the stage. "I hope you don't mind that I put down in words, how wonderful life is now you're in the world. . ."  
  
She smiled that wonderful, beautiful smile, sighing. "Oh, I can't believe it. I'm in love. I'm in love with a young, handsome talented Duke."  
  
Chris laughed slightly. "Duke?"  
  
She shook her head, still smiling. "Oh. . . not that the title's important of course."  
  
"I'm not a Duke."  
  
"Not a Duke?" she asked, leaning closer.  
  
The man on stage, throwing all his lines out the window, landed on top of her, kissing her dramatically, while she flung her arms and legs in the air.  
  
"Cut!" yelled Hans, and the actor on stage laughed, slowly rolling off of his fuming co-star.  
  
I clenched the arms of my chair, turning away, unable to see her being kissed by another man like that. Sure, I had seen her kiss the duke before right in front of me. But, hey! Why should I care anyway? I hated her.  
  
The script. . . everything in there were all so clear in my mind, and now here it was, being played right before my eyes. All those memories flooded back to me, along with their feelings of deception, jealousy, hate, anger. . . but above all things I felt that damn feeling of love.  
  
After a few weeks, I still felt that empty feeling when I saw her, and looked away before she noticed my eyes. Years ago, everything had been so different. I loved the world, had given my heart to someone I knew I could love forever. . . but all her wants to fill a need. She wants to save you with her bandages after she makes you bleed. Like a vampire, a parasite, stretch the neck of her victim, she finds her prey in broad daylight. Whatever she wanted, for whatever you need, speechless and silent while she takes everything.  
  
"Is that the way you wanted it to be?" Hans poked an elbow into my side and I looked up, not even realizing that they had started the scene over again.  
  
"Yeah, it is," I whispered, not even seeing any of it. I turned away again, lost in my own thoughts.  
  
  
  
  
  
It hurt. Every time the actor playing the role of Christopher kissed me, touched me, talked to me in the same words Christian had said. . . it all hurt. All those times, all those emotions were racing through my head, making me dizzy. And seeing Christian, sitting by the side of the stage, watching us practice with only half watching, half gazing out to nothing in particular. . . made me want to stop, quit the production.  
  
That look on his face, feeling that ache in my heart. . . nothing was worth all the pain. But it was my dream to become an actress. The story hurt, making me fall even more in love with Christian, but near the middle is where I broke down. The tears were real, the emotions were real, and my body and eyes ached at the end of the day, when Hans yelled, "That's a rap for today."  
  
I sighed, those simple words sounding like a song from the heavens.  
  
"Miss James?" my co-star, Edgar, asked.  
  
I turned my head and saw his gray eyes staring at me. "I, uh. . . I was wondering if. . ." He scratched the back of his neck and looked down. "I was just wondering if you'd like to get together and, you know. . . practice our lines." His head lifted a little. "Maybe have a little dinner?"  
  
My mouth opened for a moment, and then I spotted Christian to the side, his eyes red and raw, hiding behind a clipboard. I caught his attention for a moment, and I smiled. And for some reason. . . a little sparkle returned to his eyes and he grinned. Not that adorable grin that he used to do that would make me melt. . . but a sad grin. He was hiding his emotions, I knew it. After a lifetime of mastering it, I could sense it in others.  
  
"Uh, Miss James. . ."  
  
My eyes switched back to Edgar and I took him by the hand. "I'm sorry, but. . . I can't." I lifted up my left hand and wiggled my ring finger and he nodded, stepping away.  
  
I looked at Christian again, not quite understanding the feelings in my heart. I shook my head, smiling for some reason.  
  
"Oh, there you are my dear." A suddenly arm touched my arm and I jumped, seeing Marie's heavily painted face.  
  
"Wh-what are you doing here?" I asked.  
  
"No. . . no, you're in it too?!" Christian demanded, yelling from the other side of the stage. "I don't BELIEVE this."  
  
"I'm so sorry, Christian, that you had to find out like this. At the time it seemed like the best solution for her to-"  
  
"Hey, what time is it?" I yelled, cutting her off on purpose. "Isn't it time for dinner? Lets go home."  
  
Marie looked into my eyes and slowly her lips curved into a smile. "Yes, lets. Ewan and I are waiting for you."  
  
I clenched my jaw. Just because I didn't want my son to meet his father, didn't mean she couldn't introduce them. And I didn't want her to. "All right," I whispered. "I'll be there shortly."  
  
"Ewan? Who's that?" Christian asked, flashes of anger in his eyes. "What, is he your new guy? Are you just going to use him and leave this one too?"  
  
I turned away, glaring at Marie. "He's no one."  
  
"No one, my dear?" she laughed. "Your SON certainly is someone!"  
  
"You have a son?" Christian's voice was soft. "Well, congratulations. I hope you and his father are quite happy together," he spat.  
  
I couldn't look into his eyes. I began to tug at Marie's sleeve. This was all getting so dangerous. "Thank you, we are," I said.  
  
"Oh no, darling, don't lie." She brushed my hand off of her and looked into Christian's eyes. "She is just getting so shy about all this. Didn't she tell you? The father is -"  
  
I suddenly screamed. They looked at me with strange stares, but I don't care. Marie, if you do it. . . if you tell him. . .  
  
"You're the father, you know," she said quickly, moving aside, and escaping through the stage door.  
  
I didn't look up, couldn't look up. But I could feel hot tears start at my eyes.  
  
"I'm. . . I'm. . ." Christian started.  
  
I looked up and saw him pale, leaning against the wall for support. His mouth was open and his brows pinched together confused. He looked so cute. . .  
  
Snap out of it!  
  
"W-Why didn't you tell me?" he whispered. "I. . . I have a son and you didn't tell me."  
  
"Dead people don't talk," I said quietly, looking away from his burning stare.  
  
"Dead people don't show up in play houses either," he snapped. "Why? Why didn't you tell me I have a son?"  
  
"He's mine," I whispered. "He's mine. . ." The words I spoke weren't mine, but it was too late. . . everything said and done is already too late to take back.  
  
"Why didn't you tell me?" he roared, raking a hand through his hair. He took in a couple deep breaths.  
  
"What good would it have done? Would it have changed anything?"  
  
He stared at me, still, with a silent tear falling down his cheek. The silence became unbearable, and I turned to leave.  
  
"No, I don't suppose it would have," he finally said.  
  
I froze. I know I hurt him - now, and from so long ago. What wouldn't I give to be back in his arms, feel his warmth beside me, kiss him lazily like I had done so many times before. . . but I can't. I can't change the past.  
  
"I want to see him," he said softly. There was a trace of longing in his voice.  
  
"I don't think you should. . . he thinks you're dead," I said over my shoulder.  
  
"I thought you were. What's the difference?" he said bitterly.  
  
I looked away, taking a deep breath, and refused myself to cry. "I don't think you should." The door was so close - within my reach. If I just put my hand out. . .  
  
It suddenly swung open, and Marie walked in, with Ewan's hand in hers. I felt my heart sink as I saw his beautiful face. I wanted him here with me for strength so bad, but right now it was so dangerous.  
  
"Ewan, go wait outside, please. . ." I whispered, barely audible. He ran with his arms open, hugging my knees.  
  
"Mummy, Oma says you have a surprise for me. . ." he whispered, looking up at me and grinning.  
  
"Darling, I. . ."  
  
"Is that. . . him?" Christian's voice said behind me, my heart squeezing. Air was so hard to take in right now.  
  
"Yes," I breathed, bending down. "Ewan, I. . . I do have a surprise for you. It's. . . it's your father, he. . . he. . ." I bit my lip, trying to stop the flow of tears.  
  
"He's right here." Christian bent down beside me. "Hello."  
  
Ewan looked into my tearing face and asked, "Mummy?"  
  
I couldn't say anything, my speech gone. I nodded slowly.  
  
Ewan turned his head and looked into Christian's eyes, and smiled at the way they matched his own, only with tears. Ewan didn't say a word, just stared for a long time, reaching his small fingers up to his father's face and touching, moving over his lips to his nose, his eyelids, and his head.  
  
"Hey, you kinda look like me," he whispered.  
  
A tear ran down Christian's cheek and he laughed slightly. "Yeah, I kinda do." ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------- Disclaimer: I do not own Moulin Rouge, not even Christian. ::sigh::  
  
Author's Note: Ok, so with Marie's little meddling, Christian finally met his son. I'm so happy. . . and I think I can say that Christian is too. Wow, these just keep coming. . . I hope I just didn't jinx myself.  
  
SONGS USED: 'Your Song' by E.J. 'Whatever She Wanted' by my favorite band - JARS OF CLAY 


	7. Fiance's and Real Names

I felt like I didn't belong that night at dinner with them, but when I looked into my son's matching face, I knew every thing would be all right.  
  
Ewan was so beautiful, but it didn't surprise me. I fell in love with him at first sight, like his mother so many years ago. Anger still bubbled up inside me when I remembered. How could she keep something like this from me? We had created something together from the love I thought was between us.  
  
I would have given her the world, or as much of it I could afford. I would have married her, and would provide for my son forever, no matter the hours. I loved him, and moments ago I was feeling so lost, so alone, but now I have a son. . .  
  
Why didn't she tell me?  
  
Dinner was nice - not because of the food, because I barely ate these days. I just jabbed my fork into my food, listening to my son - my SON - talk on about loose tooth's and sailors.  
  
I stared into his sparkling blue eyes, young and naive and full of life. Just like mine used to be, before I cried those many rivers of tears for nothing. I glanced over at Satine (or should I say Samantha? I didn't know WHAT to call her anymore). Her head was bent down, jabbing her food along with me, listening silently to what her son had to say. It was just the three of us - Marie had 'errands' to run.  
  
For a second there, I felt like we were all a family, sitting down to dinner, listening to our son ramble about the day, saying as much words as he could with as little air as possible. But. . . no, we're not a family.  
  
When Ewan finally stopped to draw in a breath of air, his mother whispered, "Darling, eat your supper."  
  
Ewan looked down at his place of cut-up meat and green vegetables and frowned.  
  
I laughed, reaching over to tousle his hair. "I don't like vegetables either."  
  
"Do I have ta eat 'em, Daddy?" he asked hopefully.  
  
The name sounded so wonderful coming from him - Daddy. I smiled deeply, feeling that squeeze in my heart lessen.  
  
"Yes you do," his mother said. She briefly locked soft eyes with me, and my smile slowly faded to see her down cast face. She turned away, shaking her head. "I have a headache. . . I'll be in the sitting room." She rose from the table and kissed Ewan on the head, leaving the room.  
  
I stared after her, a part of me longing for to come back.  
  
"Daddy?" Ewan asked, breaking me out of my thoughts.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Why did you leave us before?" he asked softly.  
  
"L-leave?" I stammered. Is that what he thought? "Son, I didn't leave you. I would NEVER leave you."  
  
"But Mummy told me you were dead." He tilted his head to the side for a moment. "Daddy, what does it mean when you die?"  
  
I sighed, throwing back a few hairs that were in front of my eyes. "Death. . . seems to have new meanings everyday," I whispered, taking a drink of water.  
  
"Did you not love us?"  
  
"No!" I exclaimed. "Do you know that the moment I saw you, I fell in love with you?" He shook his head, smiling slightly. "I have ALWAYS wanted a son, you know that? Come here." I pulled away from the table and patted my legs. He slowly rose from his chair and warily climbed into my lap. I hugged him tightly.  
  
"Never knew I could feel like this," I sang to him. "It's like I've never seen the sky before. Everyday I'm loving you more and more. Listen to my heart - can you hear it sing? It's telling me to give you everything." I tickled him and he laughed. "Seasons may change, winter to spring. . . but I love you, until the end of time. Come what may. . . come what may. I will love you until my dying day."  
  
He smiled up at me, wrapping his short arms around my neck and squeezing. "Daddy. . . that's a poem you wrote. It was in a book, and I read it one day. Mummy said it was yours and she started crying and took it away from me."  
  
"She was crying?" I asked, confused. Why would she care?  
  
"Yup. Oma said it hurts her ta talk about you, because she said she loved you very much. And it wasn't easy when you died." He thought for a moment. "Daddy, where DID you go?"  
  
My mouth hung open, and I thought for a moment. I couldn't tell him everything, that his mother used to be a courtesan. That there was once a duke. . . I shivered and closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. I poked the left side of his chest. "I was right there."  
  
Ewan looked down. "You were INSIDE of me?" I laughed. "How did you get in there?"  
  
"No. . . your heart. I was in your heart. If you just think of me and remember me. . . I'm there. And that's where I was."  
  
"So. . . if I want to talk to you, I just. . . talk to my heart?" he asked.  
  
I laughed slightly. "Something like that."  
  
"Daddy, are you home now?"  
  
I had been waiting for a child as long as I could remember. And now that I have one. . . I'm staying, whether she likes it or not. I nodded.  
  
"You can share my room!" he exclaimed.  
  
I forced a smile. "Son. . . I'm not going to live here, but just a few blocks away."  
  
"But. . ." his lips thrust out into a pout. "But. . . you're my dad. Your mom and dad are in the same house. . ."  
  
"If you want me, just talk to your heart," I said. No way was Satine going to let me live here.  
  
"But, Daddy. . ."  
  
I held him close. "I'm already there," I whispered, noticing how the light played with shadows. "Take a look around. I'm the sunshine in your hair. I'm the shadow on the ground. I'm the whisper in the wind. I'm your imaginary friend. And I know I'm in your prayers. Oh I'm already there."  
  
"But what if I need you. . ."  
  
"Then I'll be here as soon as I can," I smiled. "I love you, alright?"  
  
"Ok. Hey, Daddy? I need to show you this thing. . . it's this old script I found in the attic. Oma said you wrote it. . . Mummy took that away from me too. Mummy doesn't like to talk about you much. . ."  
  
"How about we save that for another time?" I suggested, knowing the old script he was referring to and I wasn't up to more reminiscing of the past. "Hey, isn't it someone's bedtime?" I picked him up and carried him to my side. "Hey, where's your room, anyway?" I asked, heading out of the room.  
  
"Up the stairs and to the right," he said, hugging me.  
  
I smiled and climbed the stairs, feeling that I could do anything at this moment. It's strange. . . one minute you're alone in the world, and then the next your son is hugging you.  
  
"This one?" I asked, hearing a slight snore in return. The events of the day must have exausted him, and I pushed the door open.  
  
I found a small bed, and figured it was his, laid him in it, slipping of his shoes and pulling the covers up around his chin.  
  
I stared at him in the dark, a single beam of moonlight on his face. It felt like I was staring down at me, watching myself sleep. I sighed, planting a kiss on his forehead and heading out the door.  
  
I heard Satine before I saw her, muffling cries with something. I really wanted to leave, to just wait until morning when Ewan was awake again. . . but for some reason my hand raised and I knocked on the door.  
  
I heard the shuffle of papers, and then a weak voice saying, "Oh darling, come in."  
  
I sighed at the name, and slowly pushed the door open. Her eyes fell when she saw my face.  
  
"I'm sorry, I thought you were. . ."  
  
"I put him to bed." I looked behind me to the stairs and laughed slightly. "He's great. So full of life. . ."  
  
"He's my everything," she whispered, picking some toys off of the floor and setting them in a box, and sat down in a chair. "He's really glad to see you."  
  
"Satine. . ." she flinched when I said her name, but I went on. "Satine, what do I tell him? He asked me where I was for so long. . . what do I tell him?"  
  
She sighed. "I don't know."  
  
"I can't do this forever. Satine, you've lied to him for his whole life! You told him I was dead, and he doesn't even know what that means!"  
  
"I will tell him everything. . . but not right now. How can I make my son understand that his mother sold her love to men?" she spat out the word.  
  
"But it's the truth," I said. I wanted her to feel my pain, to hurt her in any way.  
  
She let out a small cry and a strawberry-blond curl fell over her eye. My hand reached out to push it back in instinctively, but my head told me not to and I recoiled.  
  
"Just. . ." I stared at her mouth, soft pink. It was different from bright red, but I liked it. No matter what she was beautiful. My heart wanted desperately to tell her, but she spoke again. "I'll figure out how to tell him. Just let him know you love him - that's all you can do."  
  
"That's all?" I whispered, staring at her face. She looked up, and I saw a tear glisten in the corner of her eyes. Besides that, her face was expressionless. How I wished I could make her smile, and even for an instant know that she was only mine.  
  
She looked away. "I don't know," she whispered.  
  
I held my breath and took a step closer, knowing fully well that I shouldn't, but couldn't stop myself. I felt a song in my throat, and I touched her hand softly. "I can't remember why we fell apart, from something that was so meant to be. Forever was the promise in our hearts, now more and more I wonder where you are."  
  
Her chin quivered and a tear rolled down her cheek. I reached up, brushing it away with my finger and my hand lingered. She closed her eyes and leaned into it.  
  
"Do I ever cross your mind, anytime? Do you ever wake up reaching out for me? Do I ever cross your mind, anytime?" I took a deep breath, kneeling down beside her and touched her pink lips, running my finger over them. "I miss you," I whispered.  
  
Her lashes fluttered open, pushing back tears. "Christian, I. . ." She took in a few breaths. "Christian. . ."  
  
"Daddy?"  
  
I glanced toward the door and saw Ewan, rubbing his eyes furiously.  
  
He yawned. "Daddy, you didn't tuck me in. . ."  
  
I looked back at Satine and smiled softly. "I better go. . ."  
  
I turned away and scooped up my son and we went up the stairs together.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
My hand rose, shaky, to my lips. I still felt his fingers there, heard his song echo through my head.  
  
"I do miss you," I whispered. "I do."  
  
It had taken me by surprise. How can it be possible that he can still love me? I looked out the window, seeing the bright lights on motor cars pass by in the rain. Why did it always rain when I wanted my tears to fall?  
  
The doorbell rang, and I rose from my chair, wondering who it could be at this time of hour, and smoothed out my dress and went to the door.  
  
In front of me was Jonathan, soaked. He leaned his arm against the door, panting.  
  
"D-did you run all the way h-"  
  
He pushed me into the house, his hands on my waist and his lips pressed against mine. He slammed the door behind him and picked me up, leading me into the sitting room and shutting that door behind him, pushing me down on a couch.  
  
I pushed him away from me. "Jonathan. . ."  
  
"Samantha, I haven't seen you all week. . ." he whispered, lowering his head down to my neck and leaving hot kisses.  
  
"Jonathan, this isn't a good time right now," I said, trying to push him off of me but he was stronger. "Ewan is. . ."  
  
"Upstairs sleeping," he cut in, silencing my mouth with another kiss. Water shook from his hair.  
  
"I just put. . ." Christian froze, opening the door and freezing, his hand gripping the doorknob. "Oh."  
  
Oh, please. . . no. . .  
  
Jonathan lifted his head just for a moment, his attention away, giving me just enough time to slip onto the floor and away from him. I stood, backing away from Christian's cold stare.  
  
Christian glared at me. "I'm so sorry I interrupted."  
  
I shook my head. If only I could make him understand. . .  
  
"Samantha, who is this guy?" Jonathan asked, going to Christian. "Why is he in your house?"  
  
"What right do YOU have to be here?" Christian asked. "Who are you?"  
  
"I'm her fiancé."  
  
I backed away more, sighing. This certainly wasn't the way I wanted this all to go. . .  
  
"Who are you?" Jonathan asked.  
  
"Christian James," he whispered.  
  
"J-James? Y-Y-You're Ewan's. . ."  
  
"Father," Christian finished. "Yeah."  
  
"I, uh. . . I'm sorry." Jonathan smoothed his hair back, sighing deeply. "Uh, Samantha? Can I. . . talk to you for a second?"  
  
I nodded slowly, following him past Christian. I looked away from his eyes, knowing very well what they would be like.  
  
"You're HUSBAND'S back?!" Jonathan demanded.  
  
"Well. . ."  
  
"How long has he been here?"  
  
"He came a couple weeks ago. . ." I said, my head down. I felt like a scolded child.  
  
"And you didn't TELL me?!" he yelled, putting two fingers to his mouth. "Your HUSBAND comes back. . . I thought he was dead!"  
  
"Well. . ."  
  
"Dead people don't come back! They stay dead!"  
  
There was a lot of talk about the dead lately. "Well obviously he's not dead."  
  
"He. . ." Jonathan put his hands on my shoulders, his voice quieting. "He didn't die at sea with the Navy, did he?"  
  
"Well. . ." I looked into his eyes, seeing anger, and looked away. "Not exactly."  
  
"He left you, didn't he? That bastard, thinking he can come back now. . ."  
  
"No, Jonathan. . . I left him!" Christian would never desert me with his child.  
  
Jonathan was quiet for a moment. His hands slid off my shoulders and he paced by the door. "Then. . . Samantha I don't understand what you're trying to tell me. You two were. . . married, though, right?"  
  
I shook my head. "Not exactly."  
  
"Oh. . ." His hand tightened around his mouth.  
  
"There is. . . a lot about me that you don't know. A lot of things. A whole past that I ran away from. . ."  
  
"Like what, Samantha?"  
  
I sighed. "Well, my name isn't Samantha James, for one."  
  
He rolled his eyes and turned away, and I grabbed his arm.  
  
"My name is Satine Desmerges. I grew up in. . . France." I still couldn't bring myself to tell him I was from Montmarte, that I was once a can-can dancer, and the sparkling diamond of the Moulin Rouge. "I was twenty-one, and I fell in love. . ."  
  
"And when you became pregnant, he left you," he sighed, thinking he knew me, knew Christian. But he didn't know anything.  
  
"I left him!" I yelled. "I left!"  
  
"Why?" He turned his enraged eyes at me and stared down at me coldly.  
  
I shrugged, looking away with a shiver. "I was young, scared, and pregnant."  
  
"Well what about your mother? She's helping you with Ewan. . ."  
  
"Marie isn't my mother," I whispered. He groaned. "My parents are dead, but she adopted me and lives with me because we've known each other for so long. . ."  
  
"Sama-" he started.  
  
"Satine," I corrected. If the truth was out already, I couldn't stand another moment of being called Samantha.  
  
He sighed. "Satine. . . I love you."  
  
I looked away. I don't know what the meaning of my confession was hoping to bring, but definitely not this.  
  
"I said I wanted to marry you. . . and I still do." He put a hand under my chin and made me look into his eyes, still cold, but kind. A sympathy, almost. "I want to marry you, Satine Desmerges. I love you. . . But I just don't know what to do right now."  
  
"I know," I whispered. "Me either."  
  
He sighed, leaning his head down, but I backed away.  
  
"I think you should go now," I whispered, brushing back a strand of hair.  
  
He slowly nodded. "You will. . . keep in touch, yes?" I nodded. "And when will I see you again?"  
  
I forced a smile. "Who else would I see on Monday mornings at 7:30?"  
  
He nodded. "Right. . . right." He saluted me, and turning up his collar he stepped back outside in the rain.  
  
I took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. This was nothing that I wanted to happen. . . for weeks I had forgotten about Jonathan and my promise to him. . . I had even taken off the ring he had given me after one night in the bath and forgot to put it back on. It just sat in my gold jewelry box, and Marie had gone to cash in my diamonds on Monday's, me being too busy with the play.  
  
The play. . . Christian was still in the room. Damnit, WHY can't things ever turn out the way you want them to?  
  
As soon as I opened the door, Christian said, "Fiancé?"  
  
I looked into his angry face. "I was meaning to tell you. . ."  
  
"Fiancé?!" he roared. "WHEN were you meaning to tell me, huh? Just before I gave you back my h-" He stood and walked around the room, stopping by the book shelf. His hand rose to rub his cheek and he suddenly turned around. "Damnit Satine. . . does our son even know?"  
  
"Well. . ." I started.  
  
"He doesn't know?! What were you thinking?!"  
  
"Well I told him. . . he just didn't understand, exactly."  
  
"Satine, our son doesn't UNDERSTAND much," he said, slapping his hand on a few book covers. "You told him I DIED, but he doesn't UNDERSTAND!"  
  
"He's five years old, Christian." I knew it was a lie, but the truth was I couldn't tell him.  
  
"That boy," he pointed to the direction of the stairs, "is so grown up already. He is so smart. . ." a tear ran down his cheek and his face wavered with emotions. "But you. . ." his red face twisted into hatred. "But you keep him in this. . . world. . . and you expect everyone else to work around you."  
  
"I can't, Christian!" I yelled, collapsing into a chair. "I can't tell him! About the Moulin Rouge, about Harold, and selling my love to men, about. . ." I couldn't go on.  
  
"About me and you?" he asked. I looked away. "What DID we have, Satine? Tell me."  
  
I lowered my head to my hands and breathed deeply, tears falling from my eyes.  
  
"Are you too ashamed to tell him that you come and go? That you'd let any man take a poke if he had two thousand francs. . ."  
  
"Stop it," I whispered.  
  
"Why? Isn't it true?"  
  
I looked up into his angry, tears streaked face.  
  
"I want my son," he whispered.  
  
I looked down at my feet.  
  
"Get married. . . have as many children as you want. . . I don't care," his voice was full of spite. "I don't care about you, Satine. Whatever was between us. . ." He paused, sniffing, holding back tears. "When I come here, I'm here for my son. You. . . you are nothing to me."  
  
With no more words, he burst out of the room and a few seconds later I heard the door slam.  
  
I slowly stood from my chair, running a hand over my arms, suddenly cold, and wondered over toward the bookcase. I reached out to touch the spines, and tears appeared in my eyes.  
  
"Will we ever discover the right key? Sing a song that is just as it should be? Will we ever be able to be the best of. . ."  
  
Sobs took my speech from me. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------- Disclaimer: I do not own Moulin Rouge, not even Christian. ::sigh::  
  
Author's Note: Oh my gosh, guy's(girls, mostly. . .)! Thank you SOOO much with your reviews! They just encourage me to continue on, and that's the reason why I keep on keepin' on (a song form the Brady Bunch. . . yeah, well. . .) I thank you so much, and I love you guy's, seriously!!!! And I'm so sorry if I made you guy's cry before!  
  
SONGS USED: 'Come What May' written by David Baerwald 'I'm Already There' by Lonestar 'Anytime' by. . . oh shoot I just forgot! 'Friends, the best of' from 'Do Black Patent Leather Shoes Really Reflect Up' but I changed the words a bit 


	8. The Closing Of A Heart

Christian didn't leave. He came and go, seeing his son. They took walks, went shopping, on carriage rides. . . it hurt my heart every time I saw a smile creep across Christian's face, only to vanish when he looked at me.  
  
After all this time. . . I still love him. Six years with out seeing him, and all I want to do is be in his arms, see that smile of his, and know everything would end up alright. I. . . love him. But does it even matter now?  
  
Christian came tonight after Ewan, and I left them alone to have dinner, saying I was going out for a walk. And I did, but in the back yard. I saw the small pond and decided instantly what to do - I grabbed a robe, stripped down to my undergarments and waded into the water.  
  
"And now I'm all alone again, nowhere to turn, no one to go to. Without a home, without a friend, without a face to say hello to. And now the night is near I can make believe he's here. . ."  
  
From the house I heard laughs, and a tear fell down noticing the voices belonged to the two people I loved most in the world. But if only he knew it. . .  
  
"Sometimes I walk alone at night when everybody else is sleeping. I think of him and I'm happy with the company I'm keeping. The city goes to bed, and I can live inside. . . my head."  
  
I can imagine I never ran away from my fears, and we got married. Satine James had a nice ring to it, and our house was so lovely in the distance. "Own my own, pretending he's beside me. All alone, I walk with him till morning. Without him, I feel his arms around me. And when I lose my way I close my eyes, and he has found me." I hugged myself and flopped over to my back, floating out to the middle. "In the rain the pavement shines like silver. All the lights are misty in the river. In the darkness, the trees are full of starlight, and all I see is him and me forever and forever."  
  
But I can't live in the world of 'what if'. "And I know it's only in my mind, that I'm talking to myself and not to him. . . and although I know that he is blind, still I say, there's a way for us. I love him. . . but when the night is over, he is gone. The river's just a river. Without him, the world around me changes - the trees are bare and everywhere the streets are full of strangers."  
  
He only cared for our son - he wanted nothing to do with me. He hated me, wish I never existed. . . "I love him, but every day I'm learning. All my life, I've only been pretending. Without me, his world would go on turning. A world that's full of happiness that I have never known. . ."  
  
I splashed some water to my side and looked up at the moonlight, once full of great songs and shining with love. But now. . . it's so far away. "I love him. . . I love him. . . I love him. But only on my own."  
  
If only I knew what I know now, I wouldn't be so foolish. If only I had known that I can't live without him. . .  
  
"On and on. . . does anybody know what we are living for?"  
  
I continued to stare up at the moon and held my breath, sinking beneath the water.  
  
A few minutes later, I emerged from the water, soaking wet, and hugged my robe around me, heading for the house.  
  
I looked around for any signs of them, but the house was utterly quiet, and I went into the sitting room.  
  
I held my breath as I saw Christian and Ewan, curled up on the couch together. A smile rose across my lips and a tear fell from my eye.  
  
I slowly walked over toward them and smoothed back Ewan's hair. They were a perfect pair, those two. Both so beautiful. . . both meaning the world to me.  
  
Ewan groaned and opened his eyes. "Daddy. . ." he whispered.  
  
I put a finger to my lips. "Shh. . . baby, you put him to sleep."  
  
He yawned. "I suppose I was too much for 'em."  
  
I smiled. "I suppose you were," I said with a whisper, extending my hands to him. "Come, let's get you to bed."  
  
"But Daddy. . ."  
  
"Daddy's sleeping, baby." I gently pulled up Christian's warm arm off of Ewan and helped him to his feet, picking him up. Ewan fell into my embrace, and I walked up the stairs with him snoring in my arms and smiled.  
  
Taking his shoes off his small feet, I lay him in his bed and kissed his forehead, sighing deeply before I went back down the stairs, my heart racing as I walked back into the sitting room.  
  
He looked so peaceful sleeping, like an angel. I remember watching him sleep. . . fleeting memories came back to me and I slowly walked to him, kneeling down beside him.  
  
I stared down, my fingers moving over the curves of his face. With a smile and a teardrop, I looked at his lips, and my fingertips touched them. His soft lips were so warm, so comforting, and felt a warm shudder shake my body.  
  
Nothing had changed, I realized. The years of angst and pain had suddenly disappeared over the last couple of weeks, and only his hair was slightly longer than it was before. . . but it was Christian, my penniless poet, my sitar player, my. . . everything.  
  
Something inside of me fluttered - dead butterflies waking up from their many years of dormancy and I leaned down, touching my lips to his softly.  
  
The warmth ran over me like the waves of the ocean, and I felt a longing, a desire come over me. My hands wondered over to his face and I kissed him again, giving way to all my bottled up emotions, and put my heart into my lips.  
  
He groaned, waking up, and I backed away, but his hands softly found the back of my neck and brought me back to him, kissing me with such extreme that surprised me.  
  
I moaned, his lips warm, his scent intoxicating.  
  
Christian pushed away from the couch, going down to his knees, his hands traveling across my back and up to my hair with briskly. His hold on me was tight and lowered me to the floor, his leg between mine. His hands glided down my sides, reaching inside my robe and touching bare skin.  
  
I moaned again and breathed, "Christian. . ."  
  
"Oh, Satine. . ."  
  
His lips traveled down to my neck and my lashes fluttered as they made contact with my skin.  
  
"Christian. . ."  
  
My fingers threaded through his dark hair, something I had wanted to do for years and tears streaked down my eyes at this little act.  
  
And there was no need for words as we made love, and through the night I slept in his arms.  
  
  
  
  
  
The sun's rays pried my eyes open, and I looked around, wondering where I was. I looked down and saw. . . her, lying on my chest, her strawberry- blond curls spread wildly.  
  
I twisted one around my finger and rubbed her arm. I never slept much these days, and when I did I always had a wave of sadness over me. But I felt warm this morning, felt that all my questions had been replaced with answer. . . felt like I belonged in this world as long as this woman was beside me. It was exactly as I had remembered it to be.  
  
But it was all an act. Tomorrow she would shun me, throw me out of her house, leave me for yesterday.  
  
I rolled out of her embrace and reached for my clothes. Oh no, she would not hurt me again.  
  
She moaned, waking up. "Christian. . ." I didn't look over at her, not letting her lure me back with those beautiful eyes of hers. "Christian. . . what are you doing? Where are you going?"  
  
I pushed my belt into the holes of my pants. "I'm leaving. What do you think I'm dong?" I spat.  
  
She slowly put her hands into her robe, hugging it around her. "Wh-why? What. . . what do you mean? Aren't we even going to talk about what happened. . ."  
  
"It was nice," I whispered, buttoning up my shirt frantically, wanting to get out of there as soon as I could, skipping some buttons in the process.  
  
I felt her sigh beside me as she grabbed my arm. "Nice?" she demanded.  
  
I looked into her eyes, seeing something I didn't expect there. Confusion, hurt. . . I saw my eyes from the past six years. I pushed her grip off of me and moved away, busing myself with looking for my shoes.  
  
"Christian. . . please."  
  
"Please what, Satine?" I asked, looking at her. "Years ago you decided for the both of us that we wouldn't be together."  
  
She sighed, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. "I know you're angry. . ."  
  
"Angry?!" I shouted, throwing down my coat and my one shoe. "Why the hell should I be angry? I just spent the night with the best courtesan of the Moulin Rouge! Shall I pay you now or just leave it by the door?" I brought for the my wallet and flipped through the few dollars I had and handed it to her.  
  
"Wh-What? What are you saying? I don't. . . I don't-"  
  
"I'm leaving," I whispered, throwing the money to the floor and picking up my clothes.  
  
"No." She ran to the door and stood there, tears streaming down her face. It was such an act. . . like she cared if I stayed or not.  
  
"Move, Satine."  
  
"I know you don't care at all, but. . . I love you."  
  
Another trick. "Well it's too late tonight. To drag the past out into the light."  
  
"Christian. . . please!" she yelled, reaching out for me, but I pulled away.  
  
"Have you come here for forgiveness? Have you come to raise the dead? Well darling I can't help you there...cause what we had is dead...the love we shared is gone now..."  
  
She shook her head. "No. . ."  
  
"Yes," I said sternly, pushing her aside so easily. I held my hand to the doorknob and for a moment I watched her on the floor, bent over, sobbing. It hurt to see her like that. . . but what she would have done to me would have hurt worse. Yes, this was for the best.  
  
But with a heavy heart I went out the door. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------- Disclaimer: I do not own Moulin Rouge, not even Christian. ::sigh::  
  
Author's Note: Ooh, the two characters have switched their views on the 'love' subject! What will happen next? I just suppose you'll have to read to find out.  
  
SONGS USED: 'On My Own' from Les Miserables. I like Lea Salong singing it best from the 10th anniversary special 'Show Must Go On' Queen-e 'One' by U2 


	9. A Trip To The Hospital

At rehearsals I tried to keep my mind on my lines that was exactly what I had said to my love years ago, but my eyes always drifted over toward Christian, hoping for something that was gone. He rarely looked at me any more - at rehearsals just to bark an order, and at my home when I briefly opened the door.  
  
Why? Why does he hate me so much? I know I made mistakes in the past, but I was willing to get over my problems. I can't live without him. . .  
  
"Miss James!"  
  
I searched the stage to see the person who was yelling my name that I had been with for so long, and I met the red face of Hans Zidler. "Yes?" I asked sweetly.  
  
"It's your line, Miss James. Edgar just said that you don't have to end your relationship, because he'll write a song and put it in the play and when you hear it, you'll know your love for each other. and you say. . ."  
  
"Things don't work that way. . . We have to end it," I whispered, a tear rolling down my cheek. The memories were still so fresh in my mind.  
  
Edgar reached his hands out for me, his hands soft on mine. "Never knew I could feel like this. It's like I've never seen the sky before. Want to vanish inside your kiss." I found myself fighting to keep my face calm, and my tears turned my mouth into a frown and I let out a soft sob.  
  
"Exactly!" Hans yelled, shaking his fists in over-exaggerated rage. "Do it like that every time!"  
  
'It's just a play. . . I can do this.' Those were the words I said to myself every morning in front of the mirror, but when I was on that stage, feeling the burning stare of Christian on me. . . I broke down, and embraced all of the old feelings, the old emotions. I even cried when I died - a 'lifeless' corpse with a tear rolling silently down her cheek, Edgar doing his best to pretend he cared that I was gone. . . forever.  
  
One morning, before anyone arrived, I walked out onto the stage alone. My heels echoed loudly on the marble floor and I sat on the glittery stairs for the 'Spectacular! Spectacular!' scenes in the play.  
  
I sighed, hearing every sound echo around me. "Trace the shape of my heart. . ." I sang quietly, my mind drifting away from the world I was in now, "until it becomes more familiar to your eyes. I've been lost without you, cold without your love. It's taken days and nights to make me realize. . . Rescue me from hangin' on this line." I know Christian said we were over, and that hurt. . . but I love him. I made a mistake before, but I will fix it. "I won't give up on giving you the chance to blow my mind. Let the eleventh hour quickly pass me by. I'll find you when I think I'm out of time."  
  
I stood from the stairs, brushing off some glitter and wondered over to 'Chris's garret' and laid down on the bed. "Take the place of my heart 'til I become a stranger to my life. I've been down without you, wrong without your love. In time will I be what you're thinking of?"  
  
And all of a sudden. . . a crash. I bolted to my feet.  
  
"Who's there?" I asked, hearing nothing but my echo in return. "Who's there?"  
  
"It's. . . it's only me."  
  
I held my breath at Christian's voice, and when he stepped out from behind the chairs in the audience I put a hand to my mouth.  
  
"I. . . I didn't know anyone was here," I whispered.  
  
"I thought so too," he said softly, looking away.  
  
I smiled - it was the best conversation we had had in months.  
  
"Lovely song. . ." He rubbed his hands together, nervous for some reason. He didn't know what to say. "Maybe we should have put it in the show. . ."  
  
"I miss you."  
  
I said it so softly that he might not of heard it, but the space around us was silent nonetheless.  
  
"Christian, I. . ."  
  
He shook his head. "Please, Satine. . . don't."  
  
"Why must we leave it at that?"  
  
"Because!" he roared, stepping onto the stage. He looked into my eyes and I saw something there. . . something that was there long ago, but pushed back by invisible tears. He reached out and touched my cheek and my eyes closed at the warmth. "Because it can't be anything more."  
  
He moved away suddenly, causing me to go off balance. "No, please. . ."  
  
He glared at me. "Take a bow, the night is over," he sang through gritted teeth. "This masquerade is getting older. Light are low, the curtain's down, there's no one here. Say your lines but do you feel them? Do you mean what you say when there's no one around? Watching you, watching me, one lonely star, you don't know who you are."  
  
"I know I hurt you before. . ." is started, tearing up much to my dismay.  
  
He spread his arms open and pointed to the empty chairs in the audience. "Make them laugh, it comes so easy. When you get to the part where you're breaking my heart, hide behind your smile - all the world loves a clown. Wish you well, I cannot stay. You deserve an award for the role that you played. No more masquerade, you're one lonely star. . ."  
  
I plugged my ears. "Stop. . ."  
  
"All the world is a stage and everyone has their part. But how was I to know which way the story'd go? How was I to know you'd break my heart?"  
  
The script that was in his hand went flying and he turned away, fleeting back the way he came from.  
  
I fell to the floor, my head in my hands.  
  
  
  
  
  
I stopped running when I reached the door, and leaned my head against the wall. Damnit, what was she trying to do to me? It was all an act. . . she was such a wonderful actress.  
  
I really did want to give into all her smiles, all her promises, all the lies she was spouting. But she would only hurt me in the end, and she meant so much to me. . .  
  
"I don't wanna lose you, I don't wanna use you, just to have somebody by my side. And I don't want you to hate me, I don't want you to take me, but I don't wanna be the one to cry. That don't really matter to anyone, anymore, but like a fool I keep losing my place. And I keep seeing you walk through that door. . ." I looked down at my hands, shaking my head. "But there's a danger in loving somebody too much. And its sad when you know it's your heart you can't trust. There's a reason why people don't stay where they are. . . Sometimes love just ain't enough."  
  
I looked toward the ceiling, and smiled when I imagined my son. I know he wanted his mother and father together. . . but things don't work out that way. Things rarely ever happen the way you want them to. But no matter what. . . I will love her. As much as I hate that idea, I know it's the truth. "Yes I may have hurt you, but I did not desert you. Maybe I just wanna have it all. It makes a sound like thunder, it makes me feel like rain, and like a fool who will never see the truth. I keep thinking something's gonna change. . . But there's a danger in loving somebody too much. And its sad when you know it's your heart you can't trust. There's a reason why people don't stay where they are. . . Sometimes love just ain't enough."  
  
I heard her sobs coming out from the stage and I glanced from the crack in the door to see her on the ground, crying. She looked so. . . sincere. A single tear fell from my eye as a knot started in my stomach. "And there's no way home when it's late at night and you're all alone. And there are things that you wanted to say. . . Do you feel me beside you in your bed, there beside you where I used to lay? And there's a danger in loving somebody too much. And it's sad when you know its your heart they can't touch. There's a reason why people don't stay who they are. . . Cause baby sometimes love just ain't enough. Baby sometimes love just ain't enough. . ."  
  
  
  
  
  
A week later, early in the morning I took a walk to the play house, touching the many leaves on the tree turning colors. Autumn was so beautiful. . . but soon it will be winter. I looked behind me, looking for something that I wasn't sure of. It was almost the seven year anniversary of me leaving France. "How fast the minutes fly away and every minute colder. Hurry near, another day is dying. Don't you hear, the winter wind is crying? There's a darkness, which comes without a warning. . ."  
  
I hugged my sweater around me tightly.  
  
I felt horrible. My stomach hurt this morning, grumbling all night. . . I tried to eat something but I only ended up throwing it up. I had looked in the mirror this morning, only to see a pale, ghost-like face.  
  
But the fresh air did so good on my scratchy throat, and I finally felt like I could breathe again.  
  
Stumbling and light headed, I somehow made it to the playhouse a few blocks away and went into my dressing room. With the help of Elizabeth, she helped me lace my corset. I leaned into the counter to help from falling down, gasping slightly.  
  
"Miss James, are you all right?" Elizabeth asked, putting a hand on my arm.  
  
I forced a smile. "Oh, yes. . . I'm fine. Can you go fetch me my dress?"  
  
She nodded skeptically and left me alone in the room.  
  
When the door was shut, I rested my elbows on the table and cried. There was a pain inside me, aching. . . and a tight corset didn't help much either.  
  
"Miss James. . ."  
  
Elizabeth came back into the room and I straightened up.  
  
"Oh, thank you."  
  
She helped me slip the white Hindi wedding dress over my head and sat me in the chair to do my hair.  
  
Backstage, I leaned against the wall and sighed heavily, feeling a cough creap up my throat, but I pushed it back down.  
  
"Places!" Hans yelled.  
  
I met Edgar to the side of the stage.  
  
"Wow, you look bad," he whispered. I raised my eyes to his and he scratched his head. "Uh. . . wow, you look great. . ."  
  
"Ok, Edgar, we'll start from you're line," Hans instructed.  
  
Edgar nodded, shaking his feet and arms, working to get in character.  
  
I glanced over in the crowd over toward Christian. . . he was looking away, rubbing his eyes. This scene. . . it was the one hardest to do. I still can't believe I faked my own death. . . and now it was here, right in front of me, in the script for me to do. A tear fell from my eye.  
  
Edgar shook his head, and finally he looked at me.  
  
He forces a smile. "I've come to pay my bill."  
  
I straighten myself up and begin to walk away from him. "You shouldn't be here. Just leave."  
  
I walk across the stage, and I silently begin to cry as I walk away. Edgar grabs my shoulder roughly, making me look at him.  
  
"You made me believe you loved me, why shouldn't I pay you?" he spat.  
  
"Please. . ."  
  
Other actors around us grab him, but he pushes them off and he grabs my wrist.  
  
"You did your job so very, very well!" he yells. "Why can't I pay you like everyone else does?"  
  
I shake my head. No, his grip is too strong. . . the cough is beginning to surface and I push him away from me, but he plays off of it.  
  
"Tell me it wasn't real."  
  
"Please. . . no. . ."  
  
"Tell me it wasn't real!"  
  
"No. . . stop."  
  
I turn away, fighting for some fresh air.  
  
"Edgar, stop," someone in the audience whispers, but Hans waves a hand at them.  
  
"Why can't I pay you?" Edgar yells, gripping my arms tighter. He shoves money into my face and I push them away.  
  
"No. . ." A cough escapes my throat, and I take in ragged breaths. I'm so hot here. . . I feel sweat trickle down the sides of my forehead. I push Edgar off of me and turn away, gasping.  
  
"Satine. . . Satine!" someone yells, a pair of cool arms around me.  
  
I lean into them, feeling suddenly safe. My eyes are filled with tears and I can't see. . . my head is all cloudy. . . and another cough rattles through my body, and I fall into the black in front of me.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Satine. . . Satine!" I yell, running out of my chair to her as fast I can. She falls into my arms, and my body trembles as a cough shakes her body and she collapses.  
  
"Satine, what's the matter? Tell me. . . tell me what's the matter!" I put my head closer and I can barely feel her breathing. "Oh God. . . Somebody get some help!"  
  
I feel people behind me rush around, but all I see is her, in my arms. . . Tears fall from my eyes as I look at how pale she is. Oh God. . . I just found her, don't take her away from me!  
  
I rub her cold arms. "You're. . . you're sick. Just be quiet now, you'll be all right, you'll be all right. . ." It was the same exact words I had spoken to her the night I lost her first.  
  
Tears continue to fall, but I can't shut my eyes, in fear that I'd never see her again. "Satine, forgive me. . . I'm been so foolish. . . please, forgive me. . ."  
  
I don't know how long it was until the doctor came, but with his help I climbed into the carriage with her in my arms.  
  
When we arrived at the hospital, Satine's lips had turned blue, and her body was shaking. I laid her down on the table and stepped back to let the doctor's and nurses do their work.  
  
"Sir, you'll have to leave," a nurse said to me.  
  
I shook my head. "No. . . no, I'm not leaving her all alone." I dragged in a breath as they ripped off her costume and were pounding on her chest. "Why are they doing that?"  
  
"Sir, you'll have to leave," the nurse said again, pushing me out the door.  
  
"No!" I yelled, trying to push past her, but two others joined her and started to escort me out the door. "No, I'm not leaving her. . ."  
  
"You can just wait outside the door."  
  
"Satine!"  
  
The door shut in front of my eyes and locked. I pounded on the door and glanced at the small window, watching them stick tubes down her throat.  
  
I sank to the floor, my head in my hands. "Satine. . . Oh God. . ."  
  
Hours later, the doctor came out.  
  
Lines upon lines of wrinkles made up his face, and his pink lips were thin.  
  
"Sir. . ." he said.  
  
"How is she?!" I exclaimed, jumping from the floor and trying to look past him, frozen when I saw her lying still on the bed. He closed the door.  
  
"Sir, are you her husband?" he asked.  
  
I paused for a second. I love her. . . I never stopped. I LOVE her! When we get out of here. . . I don't care if I get hurt again - all you need is love. "Yes," I whispered. "Yes, I'm Christian James. . . Satine is my wife." The words sounded so good.  
  
The doctor nodded. "Sir, I have some news for you. The attack on your wife seemed to have knocked her unconscious, and she had stopped breathing."  
  
I rubbed my face. "Is she ok?"  
  
"Well sir, this has been with your wife for a while now. I'm surprised she didn't notice the signs earlier. What happened to her appeared so suddenly. . ."  
  
"Is she ok?" I demanded, gripping his sleeves.  
  
"Sir, you might want to sit down."  
  
"Just tell me. I can't breathe as it is. . ."  
  
He sighed, pushing my hand off his arm and leading me over toward the small couch in the hall. "Sir, your wife is. . ." ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------- Disclaimer: I do not own Moulin Rouge, not even Christian. ::sigh::  
  
Author's Note: OOH! I didn't finish my sentence there. Hmm, what can I do? She is. . . what? I just suppose you'll have to wait for the next chapter.  
  
SONGS USED: 'The Eleventh Hour' by the INCREDIBLE JARS OF CLAY!!!!!!! 'Take a Bow' by Madonna 'Sometimes Love Just Ain't Enough' by Patti Smith 'Come To Me (Fantine's Death)' from Les Miserables 


	10. Hospital Love Medley

I slowly blinked my eyes open and looked around, seeing strange white walls and dim lights. "Where am I. . .?"  
  
"The hospital, deary."  
  
I stretched my neck to look to the side and saw Marie.  
  
"The. . . the hospital? Why?" I asked weakly.  
  
"Don't you remember?" I shook my head with great difficulty. "My dear, you fell unconscious, and you stopped breathing."  
  
A tear ran down me cheek. This was it. . . my past life had finally caught up with me. I'm. . . dying. "How much longer?" I whispered.  
  
"About eight months."  
  
I looked away. Everything was going so good. . . now the story would be true. But I don't want to. I know what we're all living for, and I have it! I don't want. . . I don't. . . He mustn't know. I can't stand him to see me in the end. But he'll have to take Ewan. Oh God. . . how would my son take it? "Marie, don't tell Christian. . . just give him Ewan."  
  
"Are you going to hide again?" she asked.  
  
"I don't want to hurt him. . ."  
  
"Satine, you think it was an accident that he suddenly appeared in Germany after so long? You think it's an accident?"  
  
"Marie. . ."  
  
"It's not a accident at all. You two were born, by God, to love each other. That's your purpose on this world. Don't fight fate."  
  
"I. . ."  
  
"Satine," said a voice in a breath.  
  
I looked toward the door to see the tear-streaked face of Christian. He smiled when I looked at him - that boyish grin from years ago that made my callous heart melt.  
  
"I'll leave you two alone. . ."  
  
Marie rose from her chair beside my bed and headed out the door, touching Christian's arm lightly, and shut the door behind her.  
  
"Satine. . ." He slowly came to my side and reached out for my hand. "How are you?"  
  
I swallowed a cry. "I'm good. . . really good. D-did I scare everyone earlier?" He nodded slowly. "I'm sorry. . . I'm fine actually." I forced a smile that would be nothing more than pale flesh eight months later.  
  
I looked away, wiping away the tears that started to come.  
  
He caressed my hand. "I love you," he whispered.  
  
No. . . no, don't do this to me now that I can't have you. . . "Christian, please. . ." I cried, looking away from him. "You were right when you said it was too late. . ."  
  
"I was wrong. I was stupid." He stood and touched my cheek and I looked into his blue sparkling eyes. "I. . . love. . . you."  
  
Tears rolled down my cheeks, and I couldn't stop them. "No, please. . ."  
  
"Marry me."  
  
I searched his face. "W. . . what?"  
  
He smiled deeply, wiping away the tears from my eyes and sitting beside me on the bed. He leaned in closer and rested his forehead on mine. "Marry me, Satine. I love you, so much. . . I was stupid for not realizing it sooner."  
  
I wanted so much to say yes, to know that I would be happy for the rest of my life. . . but the rest of my life was only about eight months. I pushed away from him. "I can't."  
  
"Why?" He sounded confused, but not angry. "Is it because of Jonathan?"  
  
"No, of course not. I just wanted Ewan to have a father. . ."  
  
"And he has one."  
  
I bit my lip, fighting for the right words to say, but nothing came to mind. All I wanted to do was fall in his arms, to kiss his lips, to be his forever, raise Ewan together. . . but I can't have him back to the way he was before, half dead and pale. He deserved so much to be happy. . . he can't have the one he loves die again.  
  
He took my hand. "Don't you know I've always loved you," he sang softly, kissing my fingers. "Even before there was time. Though you turn away I'll tell you still. Don't you know I've always loved you. . . And I always will."  
  
A tear fell from my eye and I turned away. "Don't get too close to me and expect me to behave," I swung out of bed and stumbled to the wall. I put down my head and whispered, "I might just sneak a kiss if you come near my face. What I'm trying to say is we can't. . ."  
  
"Well I know that no one is to blame. But do you feel my strength when you call my name? 'Cause I feel yours inside. How could this be more right?" He came up next to me and held me in his embrace. "And I have traveled through my mind, I've given all my dreams up to time. Tell me what else can I do. . . We'll I'm nothing without you."  
  
I swallowed down my feelings of love for him. "I'm withering away. . . and teardrops are all that I can give. But do you really know what true love is?"  
  
"Something your eyes never told me, but it's only now too plain to see. Brilliant disguise when you hold me, and I'm free." He pressed his forehead to mine and ran his fingers through my hair. "There's a light in your eyes that I used to see. There's a place in your heart where I used to be. Was I wrong to assume that you were waiting for me? There's a light in your eyes. . . Did you leave that light burning for me?"  
  
I turned away from. Why didn't he understand that I can't love him? I can't hurt him again. "You know it only breaks my heart to see you standing in the dark, alone, waiting there for me to come back. I'm too afraid to show. . . If it's coming over you, like it's coming over me. . . I'm crashing like a tidal wave that drags me out to the sea. And I wanna be with you, and you wanna be with me. . ." He smiled warmly, resting his hand on my cheek. His warmth made my shake my head and push him off. "I don't love you any less, but I can't love you anymore."  
  
I moved away to the door, hoping he would understand, but his arms snaked around my waist. "I believe that love is the answer. I believe that love will find the way."  
  
I turned my head and glanced into his beautiful blue eyes. "No one loves me like you," I whispered. "No one loves me the way you do. No one loves me like you. No one loves me the way, the way that you do. . ."  
  
He smiled, moving in front of me and kissed me softly. "I've been looking so long for you now you won't get away from my grasp. You've been living so long in hiding in hiding behind that false mask. And you know and I know that you ain't got long now to last. . . Your looks and your feelings are just the remains of your past."  
  
I sighed, leaning my cheek against his. "Pride can stand a thousand trials," I whispered, wanting to be in his arms forever. "The strong will never fall. But watching stars without you, my soul cries."  
  
"And I'll do anything you ever dreamed to be complete." He brushed his lips around my ear. "Put your arms around me. What you feel is what you are, and what you are is beautiful. Do you manna get married, or run away?"  
  
I sighed and took a step back to get a better grip on reality. "But Christian, how will we live? I'm running out of diamonds and we have no money. . ."  
  
His hands on my waist pulled me closer and he whispered, "When we're hungry, love will keep us alive."  
  
I smiled slightly, letting a tear run down my cheek. "But. . . but what about. . .?  
  
He silenced me with a soft kiss. "Come what may, I will love you until my dying day. Marry me."  
  
I half laughed and half sobbed out, "Yes."  
  
He smiled widely and slipped a diamond ring onto my finger. "You have no idea how long I've been carrying this around."  
  
I laughed. "Oh Christian, I love you."  
  
"And I you." He leaned into me, and for that instant where the butterflies took over, I knew everything would be all right. But then. . .  
  
I broke away from his kiss and wrapped my arms around his neck. "And. . . and Ewan? You will. . . take care of him, won't you?"  
  
"Of course!" he laughed, holding me tightly.  
  
I swallowed a lump in my throat. "And you will tell him what will. . . happen in the next eight months?"  
  
If he hadn't been holding me I might not have been able to stand. "We can tell him together," he whispered. "Oh Satine. . . everything will be so different."  
  
I started to sob. "Yeah," I whispered. After I had found my life, why did I have to lose it?  
  
"The doctor wasn't positive that you knew. . ." He looked me in the eyes and smoothed back my hair, smiling.  
  
"I had suspicions for a while now."  
  
"For. . . for a while?"  
  
I sighed. "Yes. Well first I thought it was a broken heart but then it became really serious. . ." I looked into his eyes, mine blurred with tears. "I'm afraid. . . but now you're here. . . I'm not so afraid anymore to die."  
  
Christian took a deep breath and took a step back. "Die?"  
  
"Well. . . yes. I'm. . . I'm dying." I looked into his confused face. "Aren't I?"  
  
He laughed, placing his hand on my cheek. "Darling. . . you're not dying. Who told you that?"  
  
"Well, no one, but Marie said there was eight months left. . ."  
  
". . .until the baby comes."  
  
I froze. My mouth tensed. Tears began to fall down my cheeks. "Th-the b-b- b. . ."  
  
He held me close. "Satine, you're going to have a baby! WE'RE going to have a baby! A little brother or sister for Ewan. . ."  
  
"A baby. . ." I whispered, closing my eyes. I'm not dying! I raised my hand to my eyes and saw the ring, shining in the small amount of light. I was marrying Christian, having a baby. . . everything was all right.  
  
"Christian, I love you. . ."  
  
And he kissed me, confirming our eternal happiness together. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------- Disclaimer: I do not own Moulin Rouge, not even Christian. ::sigh::  
  
Author's Note: Oooh hoo hoo, there's another ELM. . . sorry it took so long! It wasn't easy to make that! And. . . AAAHHHH!!!! I have over 100 reviews!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm so excited!!!!!! Ok well. . . anyway, this is not over yet. . . I have about 3 more planned after this one, so be ready!!  
  
SONGS USED: 'I've Always Loved You' by Third Day 'We Can't Be Friends' by Deborah Cox 'Love's Light' by Vertical Horizon 'Light In Your Eyes' by Blessed Union of Souls 'Stranded' by Plumb 'I Can't Love You Anymore' by Lyle Lovett 'I Believe' by Blessed Union of Souls 'No One Loves Me Like You' by JARS OF CLAY!!!! 'Phantom of the Opera' from Phantom 'I'm Kissing You' by Des'ree 'Slide' by Goo Goo Dolls 'When we're hungry, love will keep us alive' by the Eagles 


	11. Home

The doctor let her go later that day, making me promise to keep her off her feet and calm. They called a cab for us around the front, and I carried her out.  
  
"Darling," she said, the name sending my mouth into a smile, "I can walk, you know."  
  
"But the doctor said to keep you off your feet, and so I am." I kissed the tip of her nose. "Besides, my princess, you're wearing no shoes."  
  
She sighed. "I hate being helpless. . ." But nonetheless, she held on tighter to my neck and whispered in my ear, "Oh Christian. . . oh darling, we're going to be so happy together."  
  
It had happened. . . it had finally happened. I can't believe it, but somehow I could. All the affirmations in my head bounced around, giving me a warm, dizzy headache. I looked into her eyes and saw her smile - that dazzling, beautiful smile that I knew was Satine herself, and found myself singing quietly, "How wonderful life is, now you're in the world. . ."  
  
"And I'll always be there." She flashed another smile and giggled. "I'm so happy. . . you have no idea how I feel right now." I laughed slightly. "Well. . . maybe YOU do. I love you Christian, so much. . ."  
  
"I love you." I kissed her lightly and pushed the door out of the building and nodded to the cab driver, setting Satine down to take her clothing from a nurse behind us and put it into the cab.  
  
"I love Christian James," Satine said to the cab driver. He forced a smile and then looked ahead. "I love Christian James!" she shouted, flinging her hands in the air, grinning wildly, leaning back into my awaiting arms.  
  
"I love you, Christian James," she whispered. Her finger traced my jaw line and a tear ran down from her eye. She laughed slightly. "I'm crying. . . I don't know why. Oh my darling, you're marrying some crazy woman."  
  
"I like 'em crazy," I said, holding her close to me and stepping inside the cab. After telling the driver our destination, I closed the door.  
  
Satine inspected her left hand, running her slender fingers over her ring. "It's so beautiful. . ." she sighed.  
  
"Only because you're wearing it," I said, kissing her slowly.  
  
She sighed, her hand on my cheek. "Oh Christian. . ." Another tear fell from her eyes and she smiled. "It's finally going to happen, Christian. . . we're going to get married, and raise our children together, and grow old together. . ."  
  
". . .for as long as I live." I brushed a few tears away with my thumb. "From this day on, nothing will be as it was before. I will love you, like no one has ever before, forever."  
  
"Come what may. . ." she sang between sobs.  
  
"I will love you, until my dying day." I kissed her hair, her temples, her cheek, her chin, her nose, her lips. I was so happy. . . our happy ending was finally going to happen. But. . . I still can't help but wonder, as I pull away from her, why it couldn't be before.  
  
"Darling. . . I have to ask you something."  
  
Her eyes looked down and she gripped her hands in her lap. "What is it?" she breathed.  
  
"I think you know what it is."  
  
She took a deep breath and looked up at me, forcing a smile. "There is no reason good enough in this world for me to have done what I did. I was so stupid. . ." she pressed two pale fingers to her lips. "Harold. . . found out that I was pregnant with Ewan. He. . . he didn't approve, to say the least. Sparkling Diamonds and courtesans are not supposed to have children, or feel anything. . . but you know that already. And you know Harold could talk his way out of everything, and he. . . he made me believe that you wouldn't love me. . ."  
  
Her voce broke, and I put a hand around her shoulders. "That bastard."  
  
"But Christian. . . that's not the only reason. . ." She pulled away and sat on the other side of the cab. "Promise me. . . that you know I love you, only you."  
  
I didn't like where this was going. . . but I slowly nodded.  
  
"Christian, I was hoping the whole time. . . but I wasn't sure. . . if you. . . if you were the father. . ."  
  
I fought with air. There were others? 'Well, of course there were others' I told myself. After all that was her profession. . . "Who. . ." I let my head slip into my hands. "Who. . . might have been?"  
  
"Christian, I love you, remember?"  
  
"Satine, who else?"  
  
There was a silent moment between the two of us, and then she murmered a word. I didn't hear it, but a shiver raced through my body.  
  
"Who?" I asked.  
  
"Well. . . the Duke." She hung her head.  
  
I slammed my fist into the chair. "What?" I roared. "But. . . opening night. . . it was opening night, but. . ."  
  
She shook her head, raising her eyes to me for a moment before she looked down again. "Christian, the night you left for Paris for your sisters child, I went home and. . . and he was there. . ." She sobbed. "I didn't want to. . . I didn't want to hurt you for anything. . . "  
  
I rubbed my eyes. The duke. . . the damn duke! "That bastard. . ."  
  
"I love you Christian. I love you so much. . ."  
  
I looked up into her red, tear streaked face and reached out for her, pulling her close to me. She rested her head on my chest and continued to cry.  
  
"I'm sorry I wasn't there. . . I'm so sorry. . ." I said, rocking her. "I wasn't there to protect you from him. . ."  
  
"No Christian. . . it's my fa-"  
  
I lifted her head and pushed away some loose curls. "No. . ." I forced a smile through my pain. "Don't think about it. . . it's all in the past. . . but what we have is the present, a son, and a baby on the way. We have each other. . . that's all that matters."  
  
She nodded, a smile coming over her tear-soaked face. "Yes, as long as we have each other."  
  
"We're here," the cab driver shouted, the cab coming to a stop.  
  
We hastily wiped away our tears and I stepped out, holding my arms out for her, and she sank into them gratefully.  
  
"How much do I owe you?" I asked the driver.  
  
"Let me pay," said a voice.  
  
I turned around and saw Marie in a coat and hat, and bags on her arms.  
  
"Wh. . . where are you going?" Satine asked.  
  
I gently put her down and draped my black coat over her shoulders.  
  
"Deary, you don't need me anymore."  
  
Satine forced out a laugh. "What are you talking about? Mother. . . I need you so much."  
  
Marie glanced at me and smiled genuinely. "You have Christian now. . . you don't need me anymore."  
  
"Where will you go?" I asked.  
  
"I've always wanted to see the sphinx." Marie shrugged. "Maybe I'll go see Harold again."  
  
"But. . ." Satine started.  
  
Marie touched her cheek. "It will be alright. Don't worry about me, my dear. I'll be fine. . . I'm an adult, you know."  
  
A tear fell down from Satine's cheek. "I don't know what to say. . ."  
  
"Say. . . I'll see you soon," Marie said with a smile.  
  
"What about Ewan?" I asked, placing a hand on Satine's waist to keep her steady.  
  
"I told him I was going on vacation." She tapped Satine's chin. "Ah now, love. . . don't cry. This is hardly goodbye."  
  
"What'll I do without you?" Satine whispered, throwing her arms around Marie.  
  
"You'd freeze in the winter without your shall," she whispered and Satine laughed slightly. "I love you. . ."  
  
"Daddy! Mummy!" Ewan ran from the house, his arms outstretched for me and I lifted him up in my arms.  
  
"I have to go. . ." Marie whispered, breaking away from her daughter and coming to me. "I was wondering when you'd come around. . ." she whispered with a smile. "Take good care of her, will you?"  
  
"I promise," I said, kissing her cheek.  
  
"And YOU!" She tickled Ewan. "Be good for Mummy and Daddy, alright?"  
  
"Yes Oma," he whispered, leaning his head on my chest and I kissed his head.  
  
And as she began to ride away, I walked to Satine and put my arm around her waist, and felt. . . assured. Everything had been good, and then bad, and now. . . I stood on the sidewalk, our house behind us with my future wife, and my son in my arms. Thank you Lord. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------- Disclaimer: I do not own Moulin Rouge, not even Christian. ::sigh::  
  
Author's Note: Lalalala. . . aww, they're so cute. Hope you liked it! I remember someone reviewing asking me why Satine actually did go away, so I stuck that in there. . . And I'm not done yet!! A couple to go. . . but then ago I said that with the prequel and I came up with about 5 more. . . ah well. Mozeltof!  
  
SONGS USED: 'Your Song' by E.J. 'Come What May' written by David Baerwald 


	12. Delovely

I took Ewan on my knee. "Son, Mummy and I have some things to tell you."  
  
Satine reached out and held my hand lightly. "You like surprises, don't you baby?" she asked our son, and he nodded his head wildly. "Well. . . me and your Daddy are going to do something that is going to change our lives forever. We're going to get married. Do you know what that is?"  
  
"No Mummy," he whispered.  
  
"Well. . . it means that Daddy is going to live with us," our son's face creaped into a smile, "and you get your own room." His smiled turned into a grin.  
  
"Really? Really?!" he demanded, tugging on my shirt collar.  
  
I kissed his forehead. "Really really," I whispered. "But that's not all. . ."  
  
"Ewan," Satine said, taking her son's hand, "you're also going to have a little brother or little sister."  
  
"When?" he asked.  
  
"In about eight months."  
  
"It takes THAT long?!" he said.  
  
I laughed. "It takes a while to get here."  
  
"Well where are you getting it from?"  
  
"From Mummy," I said, wrapping my arms around his waist. "Mummy is going to. . . look different for a while, but it's the same old Mummy."  
  
"Look different? What do you mean?"  
  
"Well, my tummy is going to get bigger," Satine said, touching his face. "To make room for your new brother or sister."  
  
"It's. . . in you? How did it get there?"  
  
Satine blushed and lowered her head. "Lets. . . leave that question unanswered for now, how about?"  
  
He pouted.  
  
"I love you," she said, taking his hand.  
  
"I know," he sighed.  
  
"Are you hungry?" she asked the both of us. "I can whip of a good batch of. . ." She thought for a moment and then her head fell into her hands.  
  
"Darling, what's wrong?" I asked, touching her arm. "Are you alright?"  
  
"Yes, I am. . . it's just. . . I can't cook." A tear fell down from her eye. "Marie always took care of us and she did the cooking. . . I can't cook! Christian, you're marrying a woman who can't cook!"  
  
I laughed and brushed a curl away from her eyes. "Well I'm sure it's not an omen."  
  
She suddenly sprung up and pointed a finger in the air. "But wait! There is SOMETHING!"  
  
She turned her back and left the room. Seconds later Satine stuck her head in by the door and said, "Ewan, Daddy will help you move some of your stuff out of our room into Marie's old one while I make us something."  
  
Ewan groaned and got up from my lap and began to trudge up the stairs.  
  
"Oh come on, moving your stuff isn't that bad. . . it can't be cool to have your own room."  
  
"It's not that, Daddy." He looked behind him, to the left and then to the right, and not seeing his mother whispered, "Have you ever had Mummy's food?"  
  
I laughed, and then remembered burnt bread, sandwiches heaping with a little bit of everything, stale cookies. . . the list went on in my head and I sighed. "Oh yeah, I almost forgot. . ."  
  
We both laughed and made out way into the master bedroom, commenting every few minutes on the strange aroma coming from downstairs. Ewan and I worked in and out, packing up his clothes and toys and transporting them into Marie's old room.  
  
Ewan looked down at his bed. "Daddy, how are we going to move that?"  
  
I scratched my head for a second, glancing from the small door frame to the large bed frame. "Um. . . well. . . that's a good question."  
  
"Dinner's ready!" Satine called up the stairs.  
  
I watched our son skip down the stairs and followed after him slowly.  
  
"Ok, so this is a first-in-a-long-time concoction made by. . ." Satine swung open the dinning room doors, ". . .me!"  
  
The food at the table looked. . . to good to be made by her. Salad greens, sliced fruits and sausages.  
  
"You. . . made this?" Maybe I had been wrong and she got better.  
  
"Course I made it!" She gestured to the chairs. "Come. Sit. Eat!"  
  
I leaned against the wall, soaking up the scene in front of me. My son, kicking his short legs off the end of the large chair as he picked at his plate with a fork. Satine wrapped her arms around my waist, making it even perfect.  
  
"You like what you see?" she whispered.  
  
I nuzzled her cheek. "I love what I see."  
  
  
  
  
  
That night, when we had Ewan sleeping in his new room, Christian and I went outside to sit on the back porch swing and gaze out at the pond, shining in the moonlight.  
  
I sighed and snuggled closer to him. "This is so. . ."  
  
He kissed my hair. "Delightful? Delicious? Lovely?"  
  
I laughed slightly. "It's de-lovely."  
  
Christian entwined his fingers with mine, helping me to my feet.  
  
He smiled. "The night is young," he sang, his rich voice sending me into heaven, "the skies are clear, and if you want to go walking, dear. . ." He led me off the porch and we strolled around the pond.  
  
"It's delightful, it's delicious, it's de-lovely. I understand the reason why you're sentimental, 'cause so am I. You can tell at a glance what a swell night this is for romance. You can hear, dear Mother Nature murmuring low 'let yourself go'. So please be sweet, my chickadee," he tapped my chin and I laughed as his arms draped over my hips and brought his lips close to mine. "And when I kiss you, just say to me, 'it's delightful, it's delicious, it's delectable, it's delirious." He spun me around. "It's dilemma, it's de-limit, it's deluxe, it's de-lovely!' "  
  
My smile faded as his lips came, slowly, to mine. And then it happened, and I was rushed with a wave of warmth and my hands found the back of his neck. I pulled him closer to me, opening my mouth wider to give in to him, to find every happiness there was just in his hot, fiery kiss.  
  
I finally pulled away and he swayed, sighing. "Well that was nice. . ." he whispered.  
  
"The night is young, the skies are clear," I said to him, caressing his cheek. "And if you want to go walkin', dear it's delightful, it's delicious, it's de-lovely. I understand the reason why you're sentimental, 'cause so am I. It's delightful, it's delicious, it's de-lovely."  
  
His cheek leaned against mine as we swayed slightly. "You can tell at a glance what a swell night this is for romance," he sang. "You can hear, dear Mother Nature murmuring low 'Let yourself go'."  
  
I laughed and kissed his nose. "So please be sweet, my chickadee, and when I kiss ya just say to me, 'it's delightful, it's delicious, it's. . ."  
  
His lips lowered to mine and I found heaven, compacted into him. His hands sent tingles all through my body as he touched me, and I whispered to the moonlight, "It's de-lovely." ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------- Disclaimer: I do not own Moulin Rouge, not even Christian. ::sigh::  
  
Author's Note: Ok, now that SCHOOL IS OUT(!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) I finally have time to write this. I just love fluff. . . more to come later. Hope you all are feeling fine!  
  
SONGS USED: 'It's De-lovely' (by Cole Porter) from Anything Goes 


	13. Revolver

I felt her hand on my cheek. But when she gave me kisses on my neck I couldn't be silent anymore and I laughed. "That tickles," I murmured and opened my eyes.  
  
"Morning," she whispered, resting her head on my chest.  
  
"Morning," I said, twisting my fingers through her curls. I thought back when I used to do that, wondering a question I had had long ago. "Is your hair really blond?"  
  
She laughed. "No. . . I dyed it. It should be red again in a few months."  
  
"Why did you dye it? I loved it red."  
  
"It would have attracted too much attention," she said, entwining her fingers with mine. "It helped me get into the character of Samantha James, anyway."  
  
"Did you get that name from my book?" I asked quietly.  
  
She sighed. "Yeah. . ."  
  
"So what do you think about it? I mean. . . you're the main character in it." My fingers played with the back of her neck.  
  
"I thought it was ok," she shrugged, trying not to smile.  
  
I lifted her chin and stared into her eyes. "Ok?"  
  
She leaned over and kissed me, running her hands down my sides. When she was on top of me, she whispered, "I thought it was beautiful, my darling." She nipped at my ear. "Then again. . . everything that comes out of your mouth is wonderful. It's your gift."  
  
I laughed. Everyone had always told me I had a gift. . . well, except my father. But she was the first one who ever made it seem special, like I had something worthwhile. I pushed her over on the bed, kissing her neck as she pushed down the sheets further on the bed and her fingers danced on my bare back. "Christian. . ."  
  
"Satine. . ." My mouth came up to her and my whole being disappeared. This was the point where I lost all my reason, I lost every thought. And this was all I needed.  
  
"Mummy! Daddy!" Ewan came bounding into the room.  
  
I flew off of Satine and pulled the sheets up around our naked bodies. "Hey. . . son," I said unsteadily, my arm sticking out of the blankets.  
  
"Mummy, it's Monday! I want to tell Jonathan that you cooked!"  
  
Satine sharply exhaled a breath and looked over at me, but all I could offer was pinched eyebrows.  
  
"I. . . I cash in my diamonds every Monday morning right when it opens. . ."  
  
My hand found it's way to her cheek and she smile. "You going to tell him?" She stiffly nodded. "Want me to come?"  
  
She shook my head. "No, it's better if he hears it from me."  
  
"Mummy, are you coming?" Ewan asked impatiently, stern hands on hips.  
  
"In just a moment, darling. Why don't you go downstairs and fix something for yourself, and I'll be down soon."  
  
He sighed. "All right. . ." and he left the room.  
  
Satine looked at me again, and I did my best to comfort her. She finally smiled. "Hi."  
  
"Hello," I whispered. "I love you." And I leaned down and kissed her, so soft and slow I thought time had stopped.  
  
"I love you," she whispered back when our lips parted. And after another kiss, we rolled out of bed.  
  
  
  
  
  
"Ready to go?" I asked our son, snapping my handbag shut.  
  
He nodded swiftly, taking my hand.  
  
"Christian, darling. . . I'll be back later." I briefly kissed him, our son yanking me out the door.  
  
"Goodbye!" Christian said after us, giving me one of his wonderful smiles.  
  
On the street I held up my hand and a cab stopped outside the street. We piled in, and after telling him our destination, we left. My stomach ached, and a lump clung to my throat as I wondered what I was going to tell him.  
  
"Mummy. . ." Ewan climbed into my lap. "What's wrong?"  
  
I pinched his cheek, and he scowled. "Oh nothing, darling. Mummy just has a lot on her mind, that's all."  
  
"Like what?"  
  
I thought for a moment, and then sighed. "Grownup things. Things that only I should worry about while you remain completely adorable." I bent down and kissed his nose.  
  
He scowled again. "Can I tell Jonathan you cooked? And that Daddy's living with us? And I got my own room? And. . ."  
  
I pressed two pale fingers to his lips. "Ewan, darling. . ." I took in a deep breath. "Could I. . . talk to Jonathan alone today?"  
  
"But why, Mummy? I have so much to tell him." He pouted.  
  
"Darling, please. Why don't I give you some money and you go to the candy store and you can pick out what ever sweet you want?"  
  
His eyes brightened and his lips curled into a smile. "Yeah!"  
  
"Yeah?" I reached in my handbag and brought forth a few francs and gave them to him.  
  
The carriage stopped, and we piled out onto the sidewalk. After paying the driver, I watched my son skip ahead to the candy store. "This is it. . ." I took in a deep breath and turned into the store.  
  
The bell above the door announced my arrival, and behind the counter I saw Jonathan's blond head bent.  
  
I slowly walked to him. "J. . .Jonathan?"  
  
He didn't look up. "I knew you'd come," he whispered. "I knew. . . I just knew."  
  
I froze in my tracks and stared at his bent head, my eyebrows pinched together. "We need to talk."  
  
Jonathan lifted his head and forced a smile on his pale lips. His green eyes seemed to pierce through my heart as tears ran down his cheeks. "I knew. . . I knew it'd be you. Samantha. . ."  
  
"Jonathan, my name is Satine, remember?" I said softly.  
  
He shook his head violently. "No! No!" He took a few steps and closed the distance between us, grabbing my arms roughly. "No. . . Samantha. . ."  
  
"Satine," I said softly, not sure if he had heard me, not sure if I wanted him to hear me.  
  
"No!" he roared. "Samantha!"  
  
I closed my eyes, trying to imagine the pain of his strong hands on my arms away, but it wouldn't work.  
  
"Samantha. . . is mine," he said through deep breaths. "Mine. . ."  
  
I opened my eyes and saw him, a few strands of his hair flopped in front of his face. His eyes were beady, and his cold hands on me touched a buried memory. "No, Duke. . . No. . ."  
  
"Silence!" he yells, his grip tighter, pulling me closer. "Samantha. . . you're mine!" He pressed dry lips to mine and I push away. No, Christian was the one. . . the only one for me. . . not the duke!  
  
"You're mine!" I look into his face, the voice surprising me. . . and I realize that it's Jonathan speaking, not the duke. How had I gotten them confused.  
  
"Jonathan, please!" I try to twist out of his grasp, but he has me tight. "Stop! Let me g-" He presses his lips to mine again and dragged me to the floor. No. . . no! "Get. . . off!"  
  
"Mine!" he yelled.  
  
My eyes filled with tears as I pushed my palms to him as hard as I could, but I couldn't get him off of me.  
  
But suddenly, I saw a punch from the corner of my eye and Jonathan rolled over to his side, clutching his jaw and screaming in pain.  
  
Through tears, I stared up at who had saved me. "Christian. . ." I whispered.  
  
He gathered his arms around me, picking me up from the floor. "Yes darling, I'm here. I came to make sure everything was all right. . ."  
  
I leaned my cheek against his. "I love you. . . so much. . ."  
  
Christian's arms around me tightened comfortably. "Did he hurt you?"  
  
I shake my head. "No."  
  
"Let's go home." His smile fades as he looks at the floor. "Wh. . . where'd he go?"  
  
I look down, and where Jonathan was crumpled on the floor, holding his jaw, there was only a small pool of blood.  
  
"Put. . . her. . . down," said a quiet voice. I strained my eyes through their tears to see Jonathan rising from behind the counter, a silver gun in his hand. Christian's hands tensed around me and we didn't move. "Damnit, I said put her down!"  
  
Christian slowly put me on the ground and put his arms out, blocking me with his body. I clung to the back of Christian's shirt, closing my eyes, waiting to wake up from all this.  
  
"Samantha. . . come here," Jonathan whispered. I looked around me, wondering what I could use for a weapon. All was quiet, and then Jonathan clicked the revolver. "Samantha, I said come here!"  
  
"No," Christian whispered to him.  
  
"No?!" Jonathan demanded, waving the gun in the air. "She's mine. . . mine!"  
  
"No, she's not," Christian whispered. "She doesn't belong to anyone. Please. . . put the gun down. . ."  
  
"Mine. . ." Jonathan said through gritted teeth. "Mine. . ."  
  
"Please, put the gun down." I peaked my head out from Christian's protecting arms. "Lets just talk, alright?"  
  
Jonathan took a few steps closer, waving the gun in the air. "Samantha. . . you're mine. It's him. . . it's all his fault. He took you away from me!"  
  
"Please. . ." I sobbed.  
  
He ran his finger over the trigger, slowly lowering it to Christian's head. "It's all his fault. . ."  
  
My speech is gone, and I reach out to touch Christian. This is not happening. . . I had finally found you. . . "No. . . please don't, Jonathan. . ."  
  
"He took you away from me! He stole you! You are mine!" He squared the gun right at Christian's heart.  
  
"Please. . ." I gripped Christian's hand as he tried to confine me behind him. No. . . this was not how it was supposed to be. . . "I love you. . . I love you. . ." I whispered, my voice breaking with sobs.  
  
"Jonathan," Christian started, his voice wavering. "Please, lets talk this out. Put the gun d-"  
  
  
  
  
  
The gun fired with a loud, ear splitting 'BANG!', and then across the shop stretched an eerie silence. As the smoke cleared, Jonathan saw with large, red eyes who was sprawled on the floor, blood spilled everywhere. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------- Disclaimer: I do not own Moulin Rouge, not even Christian. ::sigh::  
  
Author's Note: Ok, I know hair dye used back then was permanent, but just stick with me on this. And I finally have time to write this! This was SCARY! It creaped me out while I wrote. And now the question is. . . who did Jonathan shoot?  
  
SONGS USED: -none- 


	14. The end

I held my breath as I pushed back the blanket and a tear fell from my eye when I saw her sleeping face. She was so beautiful. . . like an angel. Perfect skin, red hair, green eyes. So beautiful. . . just like her mom. And to think she was mine.  
  
A warm hand rested on my back and I turned sideways, taking my wife into my arms. "Satine. . ." I whispered, burying my nose in her hair and breathing in deeply. It was all I was, all I could ever needed to continue breathing. Without her there'd be nothing left of me.  
  
"She's ours. She'll always be ours. . . in your heart."  
  
I smiled at her. "But she's right here."  
  
She bit her lip as she smoothed my face. "Darling. . ."  
  
"Ewan!" I yelled, waiting to share this joy that was about to burst my heart. "Ewan, come here! Come and look at your baby sister!"  
  
"Christian. . ." Satine held my hands. "He's not here. He's at home."  
  
I laughed, sinking into her arms. "And my home is here."  
  
"This isn't real. . . you know it isn't. Christian-"  
  
I turned away from her, going to the other side of the cradle. I touched my daughter's face, but her touch was so cold. "Aw, what's the trouble?" Her skin. . . why didn't I notice it before? It was like ice, and looked like porcelain. But there was no way she could be. . . could be. . .  
  
Tears stung my eyes and I looked up at my wife, her face just as ghostly white. "No. . ." I whispered, my hands cupped over my face. "No. . ."  
  
I slowly opened my eyes and turned over in the bed. Our bed. It wasn't fair. . . it wasn't. Jonathan was crazy, and nothing could calm him. All I wanted to do was protect Satine. I didn't care about my life, knew my soul would be all right if just Satine was safe.  
  
More tears squeezed out of my eyes and I pulled her pillow to me, drinking in the faint smell of her hair. "Satine," I sobbed. God, I missed her. That hole in my chest had come again when I lost her before, but it was wider now. God, I loved her. She was my essence, my reason for living. It isn't fair. . . just as I find her, she's taken away from me.  
  
I hold the pillow closer as I remember the hospital.  
  
I had waited for hours in the hall, waiting until I could see her. Ewan had gone to sleep in my lap, and when the doctor said I could finally see her, I moved his head and rose.  
  
I opened the small door, the breath stopping in my throat when I saw her lying there. Tears blurred my vision, but somehow I shuffled my feet to the side of her bed. My hand reached out to touch her pale cheek and she smiled, eyes closed.  
  
"Christian," she whispered, exhaling. "I love. . . you."  
  
I kneeled to the floor and held her hand. "Don't leave me. . ." I sobbed. "Don't leave me all alone. I can't. . ."  
  
Her other hand reached over to stroke my hair. "For all that you are, for all you are not. . . I love you. And Ewan loves you. You are not alone. And. . . where I go, for as long as I love you both, you'll never be alone."  
  
I looked up at her, a smile forced on her pale lips. I shook my head. "No. No, please fight this. . . I know you can. Please, I can't loose you. You-"  
  
She put a finger to my lips and I kissed it. "This time is almost up. But darling, this is NOT goodbye. It was not coincidence that you found me and saved me. We are bound as one soul, never ending like the waves of the ocean. We will continue to be born on this earth, and you will save me like all the times you've done before."  
  
My chin quivered as I fought for words, but none came to mind except one. "I love you. . ."  
  
"We have been all the great loves of the world. Romeo and Juliet, Guenivere and Lancelot, Antony and Cleopatra. One time, we'll get it right. And one time we won't have to go through this part."  
  
I cried, so hard my body was trembling. I shook my head.  
  
She touched my cheek. "Promise me. . . that you'll find me again."  
  
I took her hands in mine and put them across my face. They were so cold. . . if she could only stay with me a little longer. . . if I could only warm her hands then she'd be all right.  
  
"Promise me, Christian," she pleaded. "Promise me you'll find me again. . . I couldn't bear to live if you weren't there."  
  
"I can't bear to live without you in this life," I sobbed.  
  
A tear trickled from her eye as she touched my cheek. "I know. But that's why I jumped in front of you. . . if you were safe, I knew everything would be all right."  
  
"So wh-what do I do without you?" I cried.  
  
She kissed my bent head. "I am here to tell you we can never meet again," she sang in a whisper. "Simple really, isn't it? A word or two and then a lifetime of not knowing where or how or why or when. You think of me or speak of me and wonder what befell. The someone you once loved so long ago so well."  
  
"Never wonder what I'll feel as living shuffles by." The song broke my heart, but I somehow surrendered to fighting it. "You don't have to ask me and I need not reply. Every moment of my life from now until I die, I will think or dream of you and fail to understand how a perfect love can be confounded out of hand. Is it written in the stars? Are we paying for some crime? Is that all that we are good for, just a stretch of mortal time? For some God's experiment in which we have no say. In which we're given paradise. But only for a day."  
  
I looked up into her sparkling eyes and she forced a smile that sent an arrow through my heart. "Nothing can be altered, there is nothing to decide. No escape, no change of heart, no anyplace to hide."  
  
"You are all I'll ever want, but this I am denied. But never in my darkest thoughts, I wish I'd never learned what it is to be in love and have that love returned."  
  
"Is it written in the stars? Are we paying for some crime? Is that all that we are good for, just a stretch of mortal ti-" A cough rattled through her body as her face twisted with pain.  
  
I touched her shoulders. "Darling. . . darling. . ." I didn't know what to do. There must be something left, something to save her. "This is not the end. . . this is not the end. . . this is. . ."  
  
As Satine settled back in her bed she squeezed my hand. "It's not."  
  
"I can't loose you." Tears cascaded from my eyes. "I love you, Satine. I can't lose you again. . ."  
  
She touched my face. "You never lost me."  
  
My chin quivered as emotions swept over me. "What do I do without you?"  
  
"Don't. . . stop smiling that smile which I love so much." She grinned pale lips at me. "And don't lose that sparkle in your eyes. Because. . . I love those things about you. I love everything about you. And Ewan. . . I'll see him again. I'll watch him on his birthday, and kiss his cheek at night." She dragged a breath in. "And I'll see you again, Christian. Because love. . . it doesn't end. And in another life. . . I'll kiss you again, and we'll dance across the stars."  
  
A smile clung to my lips as I remembered the night we met. I reached up and moved some of her hair off of her face. "You've got the sweetest eyes I've ever seen," I whispered.  
  
She sighed. "All my bags are packed, I'm ready to go. I'm standing here outside your door I hate to wake you up to say goodbye. But the dawn is breakin', it's early morn. The taxi's waiting, he's blowin' his horn. Already I'm so lonesome I could cry. So kiss me and smile for me. Tell me that you'll wait for me. Hold me like you'll never. . . let. . . me. . ."  
  
I stared at her porcelain-white face, still, leaning against the pillow. "S. . .Satine?" I breathed, but she didn't answer me. "Satine?"  
  
I thought I was going to die from the pain in my chest, and I wanted to join her in the coldness. . . but all I could do was look at her as the tears screwed my face up and ran down my face. She was my wife in God's eyes. He knew I loved her.  
  
But love. . . wasn't the word, I realized turning over in my bed. It was more than that. She was my essence, my heart disguised as a beautiful, amazing woman. And now. . . gone.  
  
There wasn't a moment that went by where I didn't think of her, wish I could touch her warm lips, see that smile in her eyes. There wasn't a moment that went by where I didn't think of joining her. But Ewan. . . he was my reason for keeping this facade of living.  
  
And so for him, I smiled. And at night, I told him stories. Stories about a time. Stories about a place. Stories about people. But mostly, stories about love - a love that will love forever.  
  
The end. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Disclaimer: I do not own Moulin Rouge, not even Christian. ::sigh::  
  
Author's Note: After a few months now, I decided to finally write this. Ff.net deleted my story. . . and I had about 140 reviews!!! I was so angry. . . Sorry for the way this turned out. Not all the happy ending, but it's good to know that they don't end, and they'll be together forever.  
  
SONGS USED: 'Is It Written In The Stars' from Aida 'Your Song' be E.J. 'Leaving On A Jet Plane' be Peter, Paul, and Mary 


End file.
